


The OZ's Greatest Treasure

by Nkala99



Category: Tin Man (2007)
Genre: Attacks, Attempted Kidnapping, Friendship, Gen, Humble Glitch, Kidnapping, protective cain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9634637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nkala99/pseuds/Nkala99
Summary: Ambrose holds the key to the O.Z.'s greatest treasure. Some people will do anything to possess it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The O.Z.’s Greatest Treasure   
**Author:** N’kala   
**Disclaimer:** Not mine.   
**Summary:** Ambrose holds the key to the O.Z.’s greatest treasure.  Some people will do anything to possess it.   
**Author’s Note:** I began this story back in 2008 and picked it up again when I recently re-watched Tin Man.  It isn’t finished, but I hope by posting it that it will push me into finishing this one.  BTW- this is set 2 months after the eclipse, and I tend to set my own canon.  No relationships or slash to be found here!  Cross-posted to ff.net.

**The O.Z.’s Greatest Treasure**

Chapter One 

Strong, steady footsteps echoed off of the walls, sending the palace servants scattering to the side.  Wyatt Cain nodded sharply at them, his coat flaring behind him as he strode purposefully down the corridor through the path cleared for him.

Only two months had passed since the eclipse, but so much had happened that it sometimes seemed to Cain that two _annuals_ had passed.  Between his duties as the head of the palace guard and his appointment of lead consultant in rebuilding the police force in Central City, Cain barely found time to spend with his son.  It did help, though, that Jeb had accepted the position of royal bodyguard to DG.  With Jeb in the palace, Cain got to see more of him than he would have otherwise.

Cain paused before a large, heavy oak door.  Adjusting the hat on his head, he pushed it open and stepped inside.

Twenty people were milling about in the large, ornate conference room, speaking lightly with one another.  Upon Cain’s entrance, they moved to the elongated table in the center of the room and claimed seats.  Cain nodded to several men and women as he walked by, heading for the empty chair at the head of the table.

“Good morning,” he greeted everyone, sinking into a chair.  “I know everyone has a full schedule with preparing for the upcoming visit, so let’s make this brief.”

A few winces met his words.  Cain understood how they felt; large gatherings were always a security nightmare, but with all of the noble houses and several royal visitors from neighboring countries arriving for the celebration that the queen had planned, Cain’s team had been working overtime to prepare.  It didn’t help, either, that there were still renegade Longcoats still at large, terrorizing the countryside and making threats against the royal family.  Cain certainly had plenty to keep him busy.

Cain glanced at two of his more experienced guards; both men a little older than Cain.  “Karson, Dell; anything of concern to report?”

The two looked at one another.  As personal guards to the queen and Ahamo, any security concerns of theirs were high priority.

“We have nothing new to report,” Dell answered for them both.  “Both his and her highnesses are busy with the restoration of the O.Z.  Neither have had much opportunity to leave the palace grounds.”

“Nor has the princess Azkadellia,” Summer spoke up.  A young woman and relatively new to the palace, she was one of the very few who were willing to serve as bodyguard to the formerly-possessed princess.  “She rarely leaves the east wing of the palace.  Not many people are ready to approach her just yet.”

“Just be careful,” Cain warned her.  “Once people get over their fears, we might start seeing some problems.”  He turned to his son, sitting a few chairs away.  “What about DG?”

Jeb leaned forward and clasped his hands.  “The team you assigned last week has helped.  DG still hates having ‘babysitters’, as she calls us, but now that more of us are watching her, it’s harder for her to slip away.”

Cain nodded.  “Then we’ll keep up the detail until she’s more settled.”  He shifted in his seat, preparing himself for the next report.  He’d been saving it last for a reason.  Icy blue eyes sought out an attentive pair of hazel eyes.  “Cam?  Dare I ask?”

The thirty-annual-old guard folded his arms and leaned back, scowling.  “I want reassignment, Cain.”

Cain sighed heavily.  “It’s only been two weeks, Cam.  Surely he’s not _that_ bad?”

Cam glared at Cain.  “Easy for _you_ to say!  He’s impossible!  When he’s not evading me, he’s using me for some crazy experiment!”  Cam took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.  “Don’t get me wrong.  As a person, I think he’s great.  He’s a good man.  But as his guard?  He’s a nightmare!”

Cain rubbed his face wearily.  “I don’t suppose anyone here would like to volunteer to serve as bodyguard to the queen’s high advisor?”

Silence answered him.  Cain looked around the table, taking in the averted gazes.

“Oh, come on!” Cain exclaimed.  “He’s a _scientist_ !  I refuse to believe I need to reassign him a bodyguard for a _fourth_ time!”

“Why does he even need one?” Kerrin, Ambrose’s second guard, asked.  “He’s not even royalty.”

“And none of the other advisors are assigned guards,” Summer pointed out.  “What makes Ambrose so different?”

 “Because Ambrose holds the key to the O.Z.’s greatest treasure.”

Silence descended on the room once more.  All eyes turned to Karson.

Karson met Cain’s inquiring eyes.  “I heard the queen mention it to her consort annuals ago; before the witch.  She stated that the high advisor held the key to the greatest treasure in all the O.Z., and that he must be protected as if her were royalty himself.  That’s why he needs his own guard.”

“Treasure?” Jeb spoke up, confused.  “But the royal vault has guards of its own.”

“It sounds like the queen was talking about a different sort of treasure entirely,” Kerrin replied thoughtfully.  “Maybe one no one knows about?”

“Regardless, the fact remains that Ambrose needs a guard,” Cain stated, halting the growing murmurs and speculations.  “I don’t suppose a detail like DG’s would do any better?”

“Not bloody likely,” Dell told him.  “If you can’t find _one_ volunteer, how do you think you could get _more_?”

“Wishful thinking?” Cain muttered, mostly to himself.  Raising his voice, he addressed the group.  “So not a single one of you brave men and women are willing to keep an eye on one little scientist?”

Cam scowled again.  “I’ll make a deal with you, Cain.  If you agree to be his guard for two whole weeks without a problem, then I’ll get some volunteers to do a detail with me.”

“And my other duties?” Cain asked.

“Surely you have some people who can step in for now,” Kerrin said.  “If you can go two weeks without a problem, then I’ll be on that detail too.”

Cain looked at the expectant faces of his people.  “Two weeks?  No problems?”

“No losing him,” Cam said.

“No losing your temper, either,” Kerrin added.

“Put up with his experiments.”

“Deal with some practical jokes.”

“Make sure his orders are clear.”

“Learn when to duck.”

“Don’t let him goad you into sparring.”

“All right!” Cain exclaimed.  “Two weeks.  You’ve got a deal!  I have a meeting with him in an hour to discuss security for the dignitaries visiting us, so I’ll let him know then.  Now, on that topic . . .”

*****

Ambrose emerged from the palace and moved gracefully along the path to one of the royal gardens.  Pausing, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  The sweet scents or roses and orchids in the air washed over him, calming his frayed nerves.  Opening his eyes, the advisor continued on the path but at a more sedate pace.

He knew he should be grateful that he lived such a good life in the palace; certainly better than most, especially after the eclipse.  Since regaining his brain, however, it seemed as though he’d also regained the weight of duty and responsibility, and all that went with it.

Not that Ambrose was one to shirk his duty; not at all.  It was more about what went with that duty that had driven him for a walk in the garden.

His personal guard’s angry words still rang in Ambrose’s ears.  The scientist regretted pushing the man so far; Cam was actually quite good at his job.

_Too_ good.  With Cam dogging his heels, Ambrose couldn’t get any of his work done.  Something had to be done about that.

As Ambrose followed a curve in the path, he wondered if he could convince the queen that he didn’t need a bodyguard after all.

“Which ones, Lisi?”

“I’m . . . I’m not sure.  Does it matter?”

Ambrose glanced to his left and spied two servant girls.  He recognized them at once; the two girls were sisters who worked with the housekeeping staff, and at the moment they looked worried.

“Good morning, ladies,” Ambrose addressed them, coming closer.  “Can I be of some assistance?”

Both girls gave a start at the advisor’s sudden appearance, then bowed at the waist.

“Good morning, Lord Ambrose,” the older girl, Lisi, replied.  “We apologize for disturbing you.”

“Nonsense,” Ambrose replied, grinning broadly.  He waved a hand at her.  “And no more of this silly formality.  I am just Ambrose.”

“Yes, sir . . . Ambrose,” the fifteen-annual-old girl replied.  “My sister and I just came from the princess Azkadellia’s rooms.  She’s feeling so sad at the moment, and we wished to cheer her up with some flowers, only . . .”

“Only you don’t know which kind,” Ambrose finished.  His smile softened.  “What a wonderful thought; I know that the princess will be very grateful for your efforts.”

Lisi and her sister flushed with pleasure at the praise.

“I do happen to know that Princess Azkadellia is quite fond of the white roses just over there.”  Ambrose pointed back the way he’d come.  “In fact, she was sitting there just the other day with a mug of sweet tea, enjoying those very flowers.”

The girls lit up with excitement and turned to one another.  “Karyme, you cut some roses,” Lisi told her sister.  “I’ll fetch some tea and meet you at the lady’s door.”

As the younger girl scurried away, Lisi bowed to Ambrose.  “Thank you, sir, for your help.”

Ambrose shrugged.  “What help?  I only offered an observation.”  He bowed to her.  “Good morning.”

Leaving the girls to their task, Ambrose continued on down the path.  The quiet sounds of nature filled the air once more.  Time slipped away, leaving the advisor with badly needed peace; something he had missed since his time as Glitch.  Ambrose spotted a collection of delicate yellow orchids and approached them.  Leaning forward, he inhaled their scent and smiled faintly as one more elusive memory clicked into place.

“We need to talk.”

Ambrose suppressed his start of surprise and turned.  Wyatt Cain was standing behind him, his arms folded and a no-nonsense glare on his face.

“Good morning, Cain,” Ambrose said, straightening.  He smoothed a hand down the front of his jacket.  “Er . . . yes, we _do_ need to talk.  That’s why we have a meeting scheduled in forty-five minutes.”

“It’s ten minutes, and that’s not what I meant.”  Cain reached out and hooked a hand around Ambrose’s upper arm, guiding him down the path.  “We can talk as we go.  C’mon.”

“ _Ten_ minutes?”  Ambrose patted the pockets in his jacket and trousers, fumbling as he hunted for his timepiece.  “Surely you’re mistaken.”

“Nope,” Cain replied.  “And this conversation needs to happen now.  Just how many personal bodyguards did you go through _before_ you lost your marbles?”

Ambrose gave up looking for his watch and frowned.  “So Cam finally asked?  I was wondering when that would happen.”

Cain, his hand still grasping Ambrose’s arm, halted and brought Ambrose around to face him.  “This isn’t funny, headcase.   _Three guards_ in _two months_?”

“You can’t count Matthew,” Ambrose argued.  “He had trouble with glitching, before _and_ after my surgery.  That one wasn’t my fault!”

“All right, I’ll give you Matthew, but Kerrin and Cam?” Cain challenged.  “Your reputation is starting to precede you.  I couldn’t get a single volunteer to guard you.”

Ambrose lit up.  “Really?”

Cain glared at him.  “ _Not_ good news, sweetheart.  The queen says you need a guard, then you need a guard.  The _problem_ is, no one wants the job.”

“Ah, but you see, I’m going to talk to her majesty about that,” Ambrose countered.  He began walking again, trusting Cain to follow.  “It’s an embarrassment, really, having a guard.  No other advisor does, you know.  Well, of course, _you_ know, you assign the guards.  I fail to see why it’s necessary.  I _can_ take care of myself.”

“Beside the point,” Cain replied, surreptitiously guiding Ambrose inside the palace and herding him in the right direction.  “Do you think maybe you need one now because of your role in bringing down the witch?”

“What role?” Ambrose asked, turning a corner.  “DG saved the O.Z. by finding the emerald.  Yes, she lost it, but she got through to her sister in the end.  You, well, you protected all of us.  You got us into the tower, _twice_ I might add.  Raw was the one that made it possible for us to learn about the Sun Seeder and stop it.  Do any of _you_ have guards?”  Ambrose stopped abruptly, frowning in thought.  Cain had to dart to the side to avoid knocking the advisor to the ground as Ambrose continued.  

“Well, DG does, but she’s a princess; she _has_ to have guards,” he said.  “You’re the head of them, so I guess you wouldn’t need one yourself.  Raw doesn’t!  He’s not back from his village yet, though.  So you see, Cain, that can’t be it.  I didn’t do anything but wander off and get into trouble.”

“Hey!” Cain grabbed Ambrose’s arms and gave him a forceful shake.  “Don’t say that!  Don’t _ever_ say that!  You did more for than that for the O.Z. and for us.  How do you think I got us _into_ the tower that first time?  And the Sun Seeder?  It wasn’t Raw who found those codes.  It was _you_.  You were every bit as instrumental in saving the O.Z. as the rest of us, so I don’t want to hear you talking like that again, got it?”

Ambrose blinked wide, brown eyes at Cain, too stunned for words.

A door nearby opened, and Queen Olivia emerged into the hall, her trademark lavender eyes studying both men.  A faint smile tugged at her lips.  “Good morning, gentlemen.  I hope I’m not disturbing you?”

Cain released Ambrose and bowed low.  “Of course not, your majesty.  I’m sorry we’re late.”  From the corner of his eye, he watched as Ambrose recovered enough to bow as well, though the shock never quite left his eyes.

“Not at all,” the queen replied.  “I only just arrived myself.  Though I trust Mr. Cain has made his point?”

Cain took some comfort in the fact that Ambrose’s blush was significantly deeper than his own.

“Er, about that, your majesty,” Ambrose said.  “I was hoping to discuss the matter of my needing a personal guard.”

The queen waved both men into the room she had just come from.  Cain nodded to Karson on his way in, ignoring the spark of amusement in the guard’s eyes.

“Oh?” the queen said to Ambrose.

“Yes.”  Ambrose straightened.  “Your majesty, I would like to request the dismissal of my personal guard.  I do not feel that such a thing is necessary.”

“I see.”  Lavender eyes flickered over to blue.  “Lost another one, has he?”

“I’m afraid so,” Cain answered.

Ambrose shot Cain a dirty look.  “Nevertheless, I fail to see the necessity.  I am more than capable of looking after myself.  Assigning a guard would simply be a waste of manpower.”

The queen fixed Ambrose with a firm gaze.  “I believe we’ve already had this discussion.”

Ambrose bowed his head slightly, but bravely carried on.  “Yes, your majesty, we have, but I still fail to see why I merit a guard.  I’m no different than your other advisors.”

Queen Olivia gave him a soft smile and lightly patted Ambrose’s cheek.  “I’m afraid that’s a point we will continue to disagree on.”

Ambrose’s cheeks turned pink.

The queen drew back and turned to Cain.  “Who have you assigned to replace Mr. Stevens?”

Cain opened his mouth to reply, but Ambrose, seeing his chance, took it.  

“I’m afraid there’s no one available, your majesty,” the scientist cut in.  “Cain told me as much.”

“That’s not _exactly_ true,” Cain contradicted him.

Ambrose fully turned to face Cain, confusion on his face.  “You said you had no one to assign to me.”

“No,” Cain drawled out slowly.  “I said I _couldn’t_ _get_ anyone to do it.  I never said I _had_ no one.”

“Well, then who?” Ambrose asked.  He stared at Cain, studying the older man’s face when the answer suddenly clicked into place.  Ambrose began to shake his head, dismay dawning on his face.  “No.  Oh no.  You can’t be serious.”

Cain shrugged.  “Sorry, sweetheart.”

Ambrose’s head swiveled back and forth between Cain and the queen.  “But . . . you can’t . . . your duties . . .”

“Taken care of,” Cain replied.

“But . . . but . . .” Ambrose sputtered.

“You have made your bed, Ambrose, and now you must lie in it,” the queen stated.  “I’m sure that Mr. Cain will do just fine.  Now, let’s discuss the arrangements being made to accommodate our guests.”

The three moved to a round table and sat down, Ambrose struggling to set aside his disagreement for the discussion at hand.

“I reviewed some of our plans with the palace guard,” Cain began.  “We’re going to bring in some Tin Men to help while your guests are here.  I understand that the royalty from the neighboring kingdoms will be bringing their own guard?”

“Custom dictates it,” Ambrose confirmed.  “We will be receiving the king and queen from Pharos, who will be bringing a complement of twenty guards.  The queen of Elysia is the second cousin to our queen; she’ll bring five of her own, but as blood kin, she will need five more provided by us.”

Cain nodded, pulling papers from his pocket and flipping through them.  “That matches what I have.  And the king and prince from Saltz with bring twelve?”

Ambrose nodded.  “Correct.”

“Security for the noble houses follows a separate custom,” the queen told Cain.  “Each of the six houses require two guards and two servants.  Ambrose can coordinate that with you, but all four will need to wear a sash with their assigned house’s color to show who they are assisting.”  She turned to Ambrose.  “Do we still have those sashes?”

Ambrose nodded again.  “I found them yesterday where we left them, and I took them to the head of household for touching up.”

“Wonderful,” Queen Olivia said.  She turned back to Cain.  “Instruct whoever you assign to do the same with their formal uniforms.  They’ll be wearing them for the full three weeks.”

Cain scribbled himself a note.  “Yes ma’am.”

“And do the same yourself,” Olivia continued, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.  “I dare say that an honored hero of the O.Z. should look his best.”

Cain ignored Ambrose’s smirk and met the queen’s eyes.  “Of course, your majesty.”

The queen stood, bringing the other two to their feet.  “I’ll leave the two of you to finish planning the security details, shall I?  I promised my girls a walk in the gardens before lunch.”

“Of course, your majesty,” Ambrose replied, bowing low.

Olivia looked at Cain.  “Mr. Cain, may I have a word before I go?”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Cain shrugged at Ambrose’s questioning eyes and followed the queen into the hall.  Queen Olivia waved Karson into the room, presumably to keep an eye on the inventor.  The queen waited until the door was securely shut before speaking.

“Mr. Cain, I wanted to speak with you regarding Ambrose,” she began.  “I do not know how much experience you have in working with courtiers, but I feel it necessary to warn you that my Ambrose is . . . a little different.”

Cain smiled despite himself.  “A little, your majesty.”

The queen returned the smile.  “He’s never been one to fully conform, which is one of the reasons he’s so valuable to me as an advisor.”  She grew more serious.  “Do not be fooled, Mr. Cain.  Ambrose grossly underestimates his worth to others, and he’ll do everything he can to make you underestimate it, too.  Do not be swayed; he does not know or remember, but there were attempts on his life before the witch’s reign.  I hope, after all these annuals, that that’s all in the past, but I will not gamble with Ambrose’s life.”

“Neither will I, your majesty,” Cain replied.  “I don’t know Ambrose very well, but I _do_ know Glitch.  Glitch is a good, honorable man, and if he was only half the man that Ambrose is, then your judgment certainly isn’t misplaced.  You have my word, your highness, that I will protect him.  With my life, if necessary.”

Olivia’s smile was faint, but Cain could see it.  “Let us hope it doesn’t come to that,” she said.  “You, too, are an honorable man, and I would hate to lose you as well.”

Cain watched her go, then returned to the room where he’d left Ambrose, waving Karson on as he passed.  Ambrose looked up from the papers on the table before him.  “Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine,” Cain replied, sitting in his chair.  “The queen just wanted to talk about our new arrangement.”

Ambrose leaned back in his seat.  “And thank you for that ambush, by the way.  Why didn’t you tell me sooner that you were going to be my next guard?”

“What, and miss _that_ performance?” Cain answered.  “I needed to get my entertainment out of this _some_ how.”

Ambrose folded his arms.  “So it’s _entertainment_ you’re looking for, is it?  Well, Tin Man, I’ll be sure to make your job as _entertaining_ as I possibly can.”

The mischievous gleam in the scientist’s brown eyes sent a sudden wave of unease through the former tin man.  


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The courier scurried nervously through the large, cavernous halls resplendent with tapestries and art.  Decorated predominately with reds and golds, splashes of blue and green caught his eyes, breaking the monotony.  Tall sculptures of warriors in the throes of battle dotted the halls here and there, as if standing guard over the lord of the manor and his treasures.  The courier’s footsteps echoed eerily around him, spurring him on further to his destination.

He came to a halt before two guards standing in front of giant, oaken doors.  Eyes flitting about nervously, the courier stammered, “I-I have a message for his lordship.”

The guard on his right stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment before finally opening the door.  Mumbling his thanks, the courier entered the room.

The room was a large study, lavishly decorated with priceless books and more sculptures.  A fire crackled in an enormous brick fireplace, casting a warm glow in the dimly lit room.  The courier’s eyes traveled from the fire to a sculpture of a tall man in a regal pose, his gaze forever captured in a look of haughty disdain, as if disgusted that someone so lowly as the courier should deign to enter his domain.

A slight movement on the other side of the room drew the courier’s attention to another imposing figure.  Eyes alighting on the current lord of the manor, the courier dropped to his knees and bowed low.

“Your lordship,” he greeted.

The lord approached the courier, pausing just before him.  The courier heard the lord’s silken robes rustle inches from his head and tensed.

“Jeremiah,” the lord’s deep voice rumbled softly in the room.  “What news have you brought me?”

“M-My lord, I have heard something that will bring you the power and riches you so rightly deserve,” Jeremiah stammered breathlessly.

“Oh?” the lord said.  “Is it the reason you broke cover and came racing here without so much as a ‘by your leave’?”

Jeremiah reddened, curling a little more into himself.  “I . . . I took every precaution, my lord.  I knew it was important for you to know.”

“Very well, then,” the lord replied.  “I’ll hear what you have to say, but  _ I’ll _ be the one to decide if it was worth the risk.”

“Yes, my lord,” Jeremiah answered.  “I’ve heard tell that the House of Gale possesses untold wealth.  Wonderful treasures.  A mere handful would turn even the most destitute peasant into a king.”

“It has long been known how wealthy the House of Gale is,” the lord said dismissively.  “It is also well known that their vaults are heavily guarded  _ and _ protected by enchantments, and that only blood relatives may access it.  If this is all the information you have for me-.”

“There’s a key, my lord!” Jeremiah blurted out.  “You  _ can _ get the treasure!  The queen’s high advisor, Lord Ambrose!”

“A ransom?” the lord asked.

“Even better, my lord.”  Jeremiah risked a glance up at the man standing before him.  “Ambrose himself holds the key to the O.Z.’s treasure!  The queen said so herself!  If you were to have access to Ambrose, you could take the O.Z.’s wealth for yourself.”

The lord studied the courier for a long moment.  Uncomfortable, Jeremiah dropped his head again and waited.

“You are certain of your information?” the lord finally said.

Jeremiah looked up again.  “I’d stake my life on it, my lord.”

A menacing spark flickered in the lord’s eyes.  “You already have.  You will bring Ambrose to me.  Do  _ not _ blow your cover.  Failure means your life.  Go.”

Jeremiah bowed low, climbed to his feet, and hurried from the room.

*****

“I’m going to kill him.”

Jeb rolled his eyes.  “Dad, it’s been two days.  You’ve been saying that every fifteen minutes since you took the bet.”

Cain glared at his son as they strode through the hall.  “Well, this time I mean it.  It’s bad enough that he can’t keep a regular guard, but to lose the night shift?  If this keeps up, I’m going to have to handcuff him to me and move into his suite!”

Jeb smirked.  “He’d be out of the cuffs five minutes after you fell asleep.”

Cain shook his head.  “How can such a likeable guy be such a pain in the-.”

“Good morning, Mr. Cain.”  Ahamo appeared from around the next corner, smiling broadly.  He nodded to Jeb.  “And Mr. Cain.  How are you both this morning?”

“Homicidal,” Jeb answered with a grin, bowing with his father.

Cain elbowed his son.  “Fine, your majesty.”

Ahamo waved a hand.  “Please, Ahamo will be fine.  I haven’t been so formally addressed in a long time, and before that I was just a regular guy.  Er . . . might I ask why you feel quite so murderous this early in the day?”

“Ambrose,” Jeb supplied helpfully, ignoring the dirty look his father shot him.

Ahamo chuckled.  “You’re a brave man, Mr. Cain.  Ambrose can be quite creative when he puts his mind to it.  I personally try to remain on his good side.”

“Yes, well, I tend to live dangerously,” Cain replied.

Ahamo nodded.  “Just don’t be fooled.  Ambrose will try your patience and push all of your buttons, but guys like him are rare breeds.  When you’re feeling particularly violent, take a step back and look at the larger picture.  If he’s driving you away, there’s a reason for it.”

Cain filed Ahamo’s advice into the back of his mind.  “I’ll agree on the rare breed, but I’d have to add a ‘thank the gods’ to that.  Guys like Ambrose would make me go bald.”

Ahamo gave Cain a secretive smile.  “You might be surprised.”

“I doubt I could handle another surprise,” Cain replied.  “I don’t suppose a guy like you could tell a guy like me where I can find a guy like Ambrose?”

Ahamo’s smile widened.  “As a matter of fact, I’m headed that way right now.  Would you like to join me?”

“Er . . . sure.”  Cain and Jeb turned and began to walk with Ahamo back the way they had come.  Cain cleared his throat.  “If you don’t mind my asking, how do you know where Ambrose is?”

“It’s eight-thirty on a Wednesday morning,” Ahamo replied easily.

Cain waited for more, exchanging a confused look for a helpless shrug from Jeb.  “And?” he prompted.

Ahamo paused in front of a pair of doors that Cain recognized as leading to the palace kitchens.  He fixed both Cains with a suddenly serious look.

“What I’m about the show you is a secret,” the consort stated.  “I discovered it by accident and was sworn to secrecy.  Not even my wife and daughters know about this.  Before we go in, you must swear to me that what you learn here goes no further than the kitchen walls.  Can you do that?”

Still confused and more than a little curious, both Cains nodded.  Ahamo studied them for another moment, then knocked on the kitchen doors four times.  After a pause, he knocked twice, paused again, then knocked three times.  A couple minutes passed, then Cain heard four more knocks answer.  Ahamo knocked once.  The sound of locks sliding back sounded, and the door opened.

Intrigued, Cain and Jeb followed Ahamo into the kitchen.  One of the servants who Cain had only ever seen in passing shut and locked the door behind them.

“What do you think’s going on?” Jeb whispered.

Cain shook his head, trailing after Ahamo past appliances and cookware.  “I have no idea.  I’m just wondering how Ambrose is involved.”

The trio halted abruptly.  Cain looked over Ahamo’s shoulder, icy blue eyes landing on a familiar figure.  Ambrose’s slender frame was standing at a large counter, surrounded by at least thirty children and several adults.

“Who are those kids?” Jeb whispered.

“The children of the palace servants,” Ahamo whispered back.

Cain watched as Ambrose tossed some ingredients into a bowl and mixed them together.  He could see the advisor’s mouth move; could hear the soft drone of Ambrose’s voice.  Realization hit him the same time Ahamo’s words reached his ears.

“Every Wednesday morning, Ambrose teaches the children how to make a dish,” the consort whispered.  “When he’s done, the children get a share of whatever he makes.  As I understand it, it started with Ambrose sneaking down here to fix himself a snack.  He was caught by the head chef’s son, who is actually right there.”  Ahamo pointed to a young man around Jeb’s age, who was watching the show and smiling.  “As time passed, Jon brought more and more friends until it became a secret tradition.  To my knowledge, only the kitchen staff, the children, and now us are aware of it.”

Ambrose scooped globs of whatever he was making into baking pans.  He rubbed his nose absently, sending a smear of flour across his cheek.  Several children giggled at the sight.

“And that’s it!” the advisor exclaimed.  “Who wants one?”

A chorus of ‘me!’s and raised hands answered him.  Grinning broadly, brown eyes sparkling, Ambrose placed the pans in one oven and removed more from a second.  Using a spatula, he scooped several of what look like cookies onto a plate and passed it to Jon.

“Careful!” he called as the children swarmed the head chef’s son.  “They’re still hot!”

Ahamo patted Cain on the shoulder.  “I need to get going; I’m meeting Liv in ten minutes.  I’ll see you later.”

“Thank you,” Cain told him.

“I have to go, too,” Jeb told his father.  “My shift starts in ten minutes.”  A mischievous glimmer shone in his eyes.  “Should I wish  _ you _ luck, or  _ him _ ?”

Cain lightly smacked the back of Jeb’s head.  “Get outta here before I trade details with you,” he growled playfully.

Jeb saluted, grinning broadly, and hurried after Ahamo.

Cain moved forward, wading through children and parents.  Pausing at one counter, Cain spied Ambrose’s abandoned topcoat.  Picking it up, he slung it over his arm and approached Ambrose.

The advisor was speaking quietly with one of the cooks, but as Cain moved closer, he glanced up.

“Cain!” Ambrose exclaimed in surprise.  “Wh-What are you doing here?”

Cain raised an eyebrow.  “You’re here.”

When no more explanation was forthcoming, Ambrose shook his head.  “And?”

Cain tossed the topcoat at Ambrose, causing the scientist to fumble to catch it.  “And I’m your personal guard.  It’s my job to be wherever you are.  I thought you were a genius?”

Ambrose straightened and favored Cain with a dirty look.  “You know, all of my  _ other _ personal guards kept their distance and treated me with respect.”

“Yeah?” Cain asked.  “All your other personal guards also quit after a couple weeks.  I’m going with a different approach.”

Ambrose shrugged into his topcoat, leaving it unbuttoned.  “How very scientific of you,” he muttered, running a hand through unruly brown curls.

Jon chose that moment to approach.  “I’ll have the next batch ready for you when you leave, Ambrose.”

Ambrose smiled with wide abandon.  “Excellent, Jon!  Will you be accompanying me today?”

Jon shook his head.  “Mother wants me to help in the kitchens today.”

“She’s giving you more responsibility?” Ambrose asked.  “How wonderful!  Well, perhaps you can go next week.”

As Jon moved away, Cain cleared his throat.  “And where are  _ we _ going?”

Ambrose’s smile dimmed slightly.  “ _ I _ am going to wash up.  No matter the recipe, some of it always seems to find its way onto me.  What are your plans for today?”

“That depends,” Cain answered.

Ambrose maneuvered around Cain and headed for the door.  “On?”

Cain kept pace with Ambrose easily.  “Do we really need to go over my role as your personal guard again?”

“Only if you insist on this ridiculous arrangement,” Ambrose shot back easily.  He turned a corner and began to ascend an ornate staircase.

“The queen doesn’t seem to think it’s ridiculous,” Cain stated.

“Given time, she’ll realize she’s wasting valuable resources on me,” Ambrose assured Cain.  He paused in front of his suite’s door, one hand on the door handle.  Brown eyes sought out blue.  “You can wait here.”

“Not very hospitable of you,” Cain said.

Ambrose rolled his eyes.  “I’m just going to shower and change.  That’s all.  How much trouble can I get into?”

Cain lifted an eyebrow.  “Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Cain!”

Both men turned at the call and watched as DG came storming down the hall, trailed by four guards.  Three of the guards had blank expressions, but the smirk on Jeb’s face didn’t bode well for the conversation DG was intending to have.

Ambrose patted Cain on the shoulder.  “I’ll just leave you to it, shall I?”

“Coward,” Cain muttered as Ambrose slipped into his suite.  Drawing himself to full height, he met DG’s angry blue eyes fearlessly.

“Something I can do for you, Princess?” he asked.

DG came to a halt inches from Cain, eyes blazing.  “We need to talk about these babysitters you assigned,” she fumed, jerking a thumb back over her shoulder.

Cain sighed heavily.

*****

Ambrose peered down the hallway from an empty broom closet some distance away from his suite.  Though DG’s timing had been perfect, and the secret tunnel out of his rooms were convenient, Ambrose knew Cain wouldn’t be distracted for very long. 

Finding the coast clear, Ambrose slipped into the hall and silently moved back toward the kitchens.  He made sure to check for Cain before turning corners; it wouldn’t do to go through the hard work of escaping from Cain to be caught by the man now.

Ambrose quickly walked past the staircase that led up to his suite, barely taking notice of the silence that had fallen above.  His mind was intent on his destination as it drew nearer.

He move gracefully through the hall, silently congratulating himself on a job well done as he reached a hand for the door handle to the kitchen.

“’Bout time, Headcase.  What kept you?”

Ambrose jumped and spun around, his face white.  Cain emerged from around another corner, arms crossed.  On the floor near his feet was a covered basket Ambrose recognized as belonging to Jon’s mother.

“C-Cain!” Ambrose squeaked in a decidedly undignified way.  “Wh-What . . . how . . .?”

Cain leaned against the wall.  “What am I doing here, or how did I know you’d be here?”

Ambrose nodded dumbly.

“Simple.” Cain picked up the basket at his feet and, moving forward, thrust it into Ambrose’s hands.  “It’s my job.  Oh, and Glitch?  You might want to get someone to check the structural integrity o the secret passage out of your suite.  It could do with some repair.”

Ambrose gave Cain a dumbfounded look.  “You . . . you  _ know _ about that?”

“It’s my job,” Cain repeated.  He examined Ambrose’s attire; worn trousers and shoes, an old button down shirt with sleeves rolled past his elbows to reveal a familiar red and black striped shirt underneath.  “Heading out?”

“I-I . . . no . . . I mean yes,” Ambrose stammered.  “Or, I was, but I  _ can’t _ .”

“Why not?” Cain asked.

“They’re expecting  _ me _ ,” Ambrose stated.  “I can’t just show up with  _ you _ .  They’ll think , , , they’ll  _ know _ . . . .”

“Know what?” Cain pressed.

Ambrose’s gaze dropped to the basket in his hands.  “Cain,  _ please _ .  This is something I  _ have _ to do alone.  I can’t show up with a bodyguard.  I  _ can’t _ .”

Cain heard the plea in Ambrose’s voice and eased his tone.  “How about showing up with a  _ friend _ ?”

Ambrose looked up at him.

Cain took a step closer.  “You know I can’t let you just run off without a guard.”

“You  _ could _ ,” Ambrose countered under his breath.

“But I won’t,” Cain stated.  “It’s your call, Glitch.  I can go as your friend and help you do whatever it is you need to do, or you can ditch me and I’ll find you anyway and be your embarrassing bodyguard.  What’ll it be?”

Ambrose’s shoulders slumped, defeated.  “All right, Cain, you win.  Just do me a favor?”

“What’s that?” Cain asked.

“Try not to be so . . .  _ you _ ,” Ambrose replied.

Cain let out a huff of laughter.  “We’ll see.”


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Of all possible thoughts that had crossed Cain’s mind as he walked to Central City with Ambrose, what they ended up doing was the absolute last thing he had expected.  

Ambrose had led the way through the streets of the city, smiling and nodding to several friendly men and women who called out greetings to him.  Clearly, Ambrose was a regular visitor to the city, though Cain couldn’t quite recall any of his men reporting any excursions into the city.  He wondered if the queen herself was aware of Ambrose’s trips, and if she knew he visited often enough to be recognized on sight and greeted by name by half of the people living there.

Cain kept silent, allowing Ambrose to lead him unerringly through the marketplace and into an area of the city that was significantly more run-down than the rest.  He recalled reports crossing his desk from the ragged force of Tin Men that reported Longcoat sightings, homicides, and vapor usage in this same area, and a knot of unease grew in the pit of his stomach.  The idea that Ambrose came to this area regularly, and without anyone’s apparent knowledge, did not sit well with Cain.  Cain silently vowed to keep a closer eye on his friend, even after his guard duty had been assigned to someone else.

Lost in his thoughts, Cain nearly missed when Ambrose came to an abrupt halt before a brick two-story building that had clearly seen better days.  Sections of the roof had been roughly patched together, and most of the windows were boarded up.  A few windows on the second floor had recently been replaced, the glass gleaming through the dingy atmosphere.  

With a final look to Cain that was half-warning and half-pleading, Ambrose strode boldly inside.

The inside of the building looked remarkably better than the outside.  The walls had been scrubbed clean, and the floors were swept and polished.  The front room held a number of mismatched chairs and sofas situated around various tables, but rather than appear tacky, they only added to the charm of the room.  Cain took all of this in as he followed Ambrose up to a counter on the far side of the room where an elderly woman sat writing in several ledgers.  Upon seeing Ambrose, her face lit up into a bright smile and she came out from behind the counter to greet Ambrose with a warm hug.

“Ambrose, love!” she exclaimed.  “How good to see you again!”

“You know me, Agnes dear,” Ambrose replied easily.  “I just can’t stay away.  Allow me to introduce you to a good friend of mine, Wyatt.  Wyatt, this is Agnes, the owner of this remarkable establishment.”

Agnes’ sharp blue eyes studied Cain, missing nothing.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Wyatt.”

Cain tipped his hat.  “Likewise, ma’am.  What, er, what exactly do you do here?”

“Agnes used to run the finest inn in Central City,” Ambrose boasted proudly.

“That was before the Sorceress,” Agnes said pointedly.  “Now it’s a shelter for anyone displaced by her reign.”

“Agnes puts them up, feeds them, and finds work until they can support themselves again,” Ambrose continued.  “She also helped the resistance and smuggled some prisoners to safety.”

Cain idly wondered if Glitch had been one of those prisoners she had helped, but knew better than to ask.

“Until the Longcoats found out and decided to do something about it,” Agnes said bitterly.  “They came in with their weapons and tore the place apart.  I’ve only just been able to begin repairs; many volunteers have come in and helped me rebuild.”

“And we’ll have you back in business in no time!” Ambrose announced cheerfully.

“Why not petition the queen for assistance?” Cain wanted to know.  “Surely, since the damage was incurred as a result of resistance-.”

Agnes waved a hand.  “The queen has enough to concern herself with.  Besides; how could one old woman merit an audience with the queen when there are more people needing help?”

“Well . . . surely-.”  Cain tossed a glance to Ambrose.  The words died on his lips at the stern look on Ambrose’s face.  Ambrose lightly shook his head.

“Um . . .” Cain turned back to Agnes.  “What can we do to help?”

“I can always use an extra pair of hands fixing the damage to the building,” Agnes replied brightly.  She turned to Ambrose.  “The kitchen’s running as smooth as ever, love.  Can you work on the heating next?  With winter coming soon, I’d hate for it to fail.”

“No problem!” Ambrose said.  “I’ll leave the cookies with you, then, shall I?”

“If you know what’s good for you!” Agnes replied.  “Now scoot!  You know the way!  Oh, and take your friend to Michael.  He’ll get Wyatt sorted out.”

Ambrose grabbed Wyatt’s arm and, with a cheerful wave, dragged the former Tin Man into the next room.

“Great Gale, Cain!” he hissed through a frozen smile and clenched teeth.  “I thought you promised not to tell anyone who I was!”

“Relax,” Cain said, tugging his arm free.  “I wasn’t going to tell her.  I just wanted to ask her if you’d offered to help.”

Ambrose snorted indelicately.  “Of  _ course _ I did.  Several times, actually, but she wouldn’t hear of it.  Agnes is a proud woman, but she’s doing all right.  The most help she’ll accept is volunteer, so that’s the help I give.”

“What  _ do _ they know about you, then?” Cain asked.

Ambrose paused and pushed Cain down a side hallway.  “They know I work at the palace.  However, to everyone here, I fix mechanical and electrical things, and tinker with a few machines.  That’s  _ all _ .  If they knew my title . . .” he trailed off.

“What?” Cain prompted.

Ambrose shook his head.  “Nothing.”

Cain folded his arms.  “So they have no idea that half of the machines in this building you’re just ‘tinkering’ with are actually ones whose designs you’ve taken and improved on?”

Ambrose blinked at Cain, stunned.  “How did you know that?”

Cain gave Ambrose a pointed look. “It’s my-.”

“Job, yes,” Ambrose finished with Cain, nodding.  “Well, for now, your job will be to help with repairs to the dining room.  C’mon, I’ll introduce you to Michael.”

*****

Ambrose sighed happily and leaned back, wiping the grease and oil from his hands with a dirty rag.  More stains spotted his clothes, but the advisor didn’t bother with them. Gathering the tools around him, he tucked them back into the open tool box beside him and stood, heading for the utility closet near the kitchen.

As he put the tool box back in its proper place, Ambrose glanced at his timepiece.  Fixing the heating system had gone faster than he’d expected.  If he hurried, he could make one quick trip to his next destination and be back before Cain even noticed he’d been gone.

Quietly shutting the door to the closet, Ambrose slipped down the hall and out the back door.  Once outside, he turned towards the alley and began to jog, unaware of a pair of eyes watching him.

Ambrose burst into the thickening crowd, winding through the street and around several stalls before ducking into a grocery store.  He smiled broadly at the man behind the counter.

“Good day, Edgar!” he greeted.

“Ambrose!” the silver-haired man exclaimed.  He moved from behind the counter and gave Ambrose a hug.  “Wonderful to see you, my boy!  You’re early today!”

“I have several appointments this afternoon, I’m afraid,” Ambrose told him.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pouch.  “Here’s this week’s payments.  I can’t thank you enough for doing this, and for so little.”

Edgar let out a small huff, but took the pouch.  “Little?  Pah!  If I could, I wouldn’t even take this.  I’ll have the first batch delivered to the orphanage just before lunch.  Agnes’ll get her food before supper.”

Ambrose grinned broadly.  “Perfect.  I wish I could stay, but I’ve got to run.  Give my love to Sarah, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Edgar replied.  “We’ll see you next week.  Maybe you can stay for lunch?”

“I look forward to it.”  Ambrose headed out, waving as he went.

The advisor moved easily through the streets, reaching the alley in no time at all.  He was just thanking his good luck when something hard struck him from the side, sending him flying against the wall of Agnes’ hotel.  Ambrose let out a whoosh of air and dropped to the ground, unable to catch his breath.

Hands gripped his clothes, forcing him back onto his feet.  Still dazed, Ambrose managed to lash out, kicking his assailant in the groin.

His attacker yelped in pain, his grasp loosening.  Ambrose fell back onto the ground and tried to kick again, but the man recovered and moved back.

As Ambrose struggled to his feet, a glint of metal caught his attention.  His attacker held a knife out, ready to strike the moment Ambrose was close.

Ambrose steadied himself, waiting for the other man to make the first move.

Tired of waiting, the other man stepped forward, swinging the knife at the advisor’s chest.  Ambrose jumped out of reach.  When the man slashed again, Ambrose’s hand darted out, clamping down on the man’s wrist and twisting sharply.  The man let out a grunt of pain and yanked his hand back.  The blade retracted with the hand, but not before it sliced along the palm of Ambrose’s hand.  Ambrose cried out and moved farther against the wall.

At that moment, a gunshot rang out.  A bullet zipped through the air close enough to Ambrose’s attacker that it grazed deeply across the man’s arm.  The man uttered a curse under his breath and ran off.

Ambrose watched him go, breathing heavily.  Footsteps echoed off of the walls, bringing his attention back as Cain appeared in front of him, gun still in hand.

“Are you all right?” he demanded.

Ambrose straightened and nodded.  “Fine.  It was just a mugger.”

Cain eyed the blood dripping from Ambrose’s hand.  “We’d better get you cleaned up and have your hand looked at.  While we’re doing that, you can explain to me why you were sneaking out.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Ambrose winced and hissed as the healer poked at the gash in his palm.  Behind the man, Agnes fluttered about, ranting about hooligans and criminals and the need for more protection.  She hadn’t stopped since Cain had dragged the advisor back into the front room, her distress at Ambrose’s injury driving her into a frenzy.

Fortunately, Michael had been nearby and had volunteered to run and fetch a healer, since Agnes was in no condition to do so and Cain wasn’t about to leave Ambrose’s side.  Even now, he stood behind Ambrose’s chair, acting as a silent sentry as Ambrose’s hand was examined.

Another poke and hiss of pain, and Ambrose drew his hand back, curling around it protectively.  “Really, if all you’re going to do is poke at it, then you can go.  I’ll take care of it myself.”

A scoff sounded over his head.  “I wasn’t aware you had medical training along with all of your other schooling.”

Ambrose craned his neck to glare at Cain.  “How is that helpful?”

The healer held his hand out to Ambrose.  “I’m sorry, but I had to check for any damage to your nerves.  The wound isn’t too bad, but it will need stitching.”

Rather than put the genius at ease, Ambrose paled and curled up tighter.  “A-Actually, I think it’s stopped bleeding.  So I won’t need any . . . any stitches.  Thank you.”

Cain silently cursed himself for his forgetfulness.  Ever since Ambrose’s surgery to restore his brain, he had developed a near paralyzing fear of healers.  No one had known until about a month after the Eclipse, when an explosion had destroyed half of Ambrose’s lab and had nearly taken the inventor’s life.  When Ambrose had awakened in the healing ward of the palace, his complete meltdown had resulted in three healers being injured before Matthew, Cain, and Raw had managed to calm him down.  As Ambrose’s haunted, tearful words begging them not to take his brain away had broken through the confusion, they had sent waves of compassion and protectiveness through them.  Since then, Ambrose’s friends had been careful to never leave him alone near any healers.

Dropping a hand on Ambrose’s shoulder and squeezing, Cain crouched down beside Ambrose’s chair and caught his eyes.

“I’m sure if the healer says you need stitches, then you need stitches,” he said, his voice gentle.  “But I see no reason why they can’t be done right here.”

“But-,” the healer protested.

Cain’s sharp warning look caused the healer’s mouth to snap shut audibly.

“You . . . you’ll be here too?”  Ambrose’s hesitant voice drew Cain’s attention away from the cowed healer.  “You won’t leave?”

Cain smirked.  “I’ve been telling you that for the past two days, haven’t I?  Don’t worry; all he’ll do is stitch your hand back together.  I won’t let him do anything else.”

Ambrose nodded slowly, a small smile on his face.  Cain squeezed Ambrose’s shoulder again and turned to give the healer an expectant look.

The healer jolted.  “Oh, um . . . I need to collect some supplies.  I’ll be right back.”

Cain stood and moved to sit in a chair beside Ambrose.  “While we wait, you can tell me what you were doing out in that alley by yourself.”

Ambrose glanced at Agnes, who had fallen silent at his earlier outburst, then back to Cain.  “Er . . .”

Lies and half-truths chased themselves around in his mind, but as he looked into the two faces that were lined with worry for him, he found he couldn’t say any of them.  His shoulders slumped.

“I went to see Edgar,” he admitted, eyes dropping to his knees.

“The grocer?” Agnes said, eyes narrowed shrewdly.

Ambrose nodded at his knees.

Cain studied his friend, his mind putting the pieces together effortlessly.   “Does this have anything to do with those plans you mentioned this morning?”

Another meek nod.  Cain could see the flush rising in Ambrose’s cheeks and knew that the advisor didn’t want either him or Agnes to know about his business with Edgar.  Deciding to give Ambrose a break, he changed the subject.

“After you get your stitches, we’re heading back home,” he stated.  “ _ You _ can be the one to explain to our friends what happened, ‘cause I’m sure not going to be the one to do it.”

In spite of his embarrassment, Ambrose couldn’t help but smirk at Cain.  “Not so brave after all?”

“Ask me that again after you tell the boss what happened,” Cain shot back.

The small smile slipped off of Ambrose’s face.  “On second thought, maybe no one else needs to know,” he said.

Cain chuckled.

*****

Jeremiah hissed as he pressed a bloody cloth to his forearm, sending up a silent prayer that his wound would finally stop bleeding.

Curse that meddling Tin Man anyway, he thought.  Another few minutes, and he would have had Ambrose bundled up and on his way to his lordship.  He couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity; Ambrose, alone in a questionable part of the city, no witnesses around.  The odds of another opportunity like that coming along were astronomical.

Jeremiah carefully lifted the cloth to check on his wound, then covered it once more.

Looking for another opportunity to take advantage of wouldn't work. If he was to succeed, he would need to carefully plan out his attack. Bringing in help would increase the risk of being found out, but it would also increase his chances of success. The advisor was too skilled in self-defense and too well-guarded for any half-thought out plans.

He did have one advantage, though. His position in the palace afforded him access to Ambrose, as well as the element of surprise. With careful planning and a little luck, he would be delivering Ambrose to his lordship in no time.

Casting a glance around the dingy apartment his cousin kept in the city, Jeremiah moved out of the living room and into the kitchen. Rummaging through several drawers, he collected a clean cloth, a notepad, and a pencil and sat at the kitchen table. 

Unwrapping the cloth from his arm, he dropped the bloodied rag into the trash and wrapped his arm in the clean one. Tucking the edges underneath the makeshift bandage, Jeremiah tugged his sleeve down over it. Pulling the notepad closer, he began to jot down the names of some people he knew he could trust to keep their mouths shut.

The door to the apartment opened suddenly. Jeremiah tore the page from the pad and jammed it in his pocket, turning to face the newcomer. He smiled at his cousin.

"Hey, Kerrin," he greeted.

*****

Ambrose poked at the bandage now covering his palm, trusting his feet to carry him back up the well-worn path to the palace. He pulled at one edge, then smoothed his fingers lightly across his palm.

A larger hand crossed his vision, batting at his fingers. "Stop that!"

Ambrose swatted back. "I'm just checking it."

"You're going to pull a stitch," Cain corrected. "And then you'll have to go through getting stitches all over again."

Ambrose dropped his hands and lifted his head, straightening his shoulders. "Nonsense," he said dismissively. "Honestly, Cain, you worry too much."

Cain lifted  skeptical eyebrow, eyes darting down to Ambrose's injured hand and back up to the advisor's face. "That bandage says different."

Ambrose rolled his eyes. "For the last time, Cain, it was a simple mugging. You act like this doesn't happen all the time."

Cain stopped, raising both eyebrows at Ambrose. "Exactly how often  _ does _ this happen to you?" he asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer.

Ambrose shrugged and continued walking, forcing Cain to move. "Oh, who knows? It's my second time since getting my marbles back, though it's the first where I've had to defend myself, which explains why I'm a little rusty, but before the witch? Oh, every few months or so. Really, it's not like I go into the best neighborhoods. Crime tends to happen in those kinds of areas."

"Yeah, about that," Cain said. "I'm not sure it's a good idea for you to be going to those neighborhoods on your own. Do you have any idea the kind of trouble that you could get yourself into?"

The look that Ambrose gave him suggested that Ambrose thought him to be a little slow on the uptake. "Why do you think I'm going there in the first place?"

Cain didn't have a good answer for him.

"Anyway, it's not  _ that _ bad," Ambrose continued. "Most people there know me, and they leave me alone. Only newcomers to the neighborhood looking for an easy mark tend to try something."

"You're not exactly instilling me with confidence," Cain commented.

Ambrose fixed Cain with a piercing look. "The first time I met Michael, he tried to mug me."

Cain's jaw dropped in surprise. The man at Agnes' inn who had been so good-natured while they worked, and so attentive when Ambrose had been hurt, did not strike Cain as a common thief. "What?"

The two men crossed the gates and entered the palace grounds, halting at the edge of the gardens. Ambrose's face was more serious than Cain could remember seeing him.

"About a week after I was fully recovered from my surgery, I wentto visit Agnes," Ambrose told him. "On my way there, Michael pulled me into an alley, held a gun on me, and demanded whatever plats I had. I have him what he wanted, but I also told him that if he wanted regular, legal income, I would introduce him to someone who needed a good handyman."

"And he listened?" Cain asked in disbelief.

"Of course not," Ambrose replied. "He thought I was completely insane."

Cain snorted, but wisely remained silent.

"I spoke to Agnes, who agreed to hire him if I could get him to come to her." Ambrose smiled ruefully. "It took me about two days to track him down, but I manage to convince him to meet Agnes. The rest, as they say, is that."

Cain shook his head. "Only you, sweetheart." He tilted his head as a thought occurred to him. "Why go to all that effort?"

Ambrose frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Tracking Michael down," Cain said. "Helping Agnes, seeing Edgar. Why do you do it?"

Ambrose considered Cain for a long moment. "Everyone deserves the chance to help and be helped."

Before Cain could ponder the unusual comment, DG's voice rang out across the garden.

"Cain! Glitch!"

Both men turned to see DG running toward them, all sense of royal propriety completely abandoned. Following behind her at a slightly more reserved pace was Azkadellia.

Ambrose and Cain bowed respectfully as the two princesses joined them. "Good afternoon DG, Az," Ambrose greeted warmly.

DG's eyes unerringly dropped to Ambrose's bandaged hand. "What happened?"

Ambrose slipped his hand out of view. "Just a little mishap," he assured her. "Nothing to worry about."

DG glanced at Cain, unconvinced.

"What can we do for you, Princess?" Ambrose asked, sensing Cain's unwillingness to help him in his obfuscation.

"The head chef is planning out the menu for the welcome feast," Azkadellia spoke up, her voice soft but firm. "She can't remember if Lord Trent is allergic to strawberries or cranberries. The seamstresses are nearly done with touching up the noble houses' sashes, but some of the crests are faded and no one is sure which color belongs to which house."

"And Mother wants a word when you have a free moment," DG chimed in.

"Then I better hurry," Ambrose said. He bowed again to the princesses and headed for the doors to the palace.

Cain made to follow, but DG's hand on his arm stopped him.

"What  _ really _ happened to his hand?" she asked.

Cain's eyes flickered between DG's bright blue and Azkadellia's dark brown. "Nothing you need to worry about, Princess. He really is okay."

DG nodded, but Cain could see she wasn't satisfied with his answer, and he didn't want to get caught in the middle of a lie.

"If that's all?" he asked. "I have a trouble magnet to catch up with."

"Actually, I wanted to ask you something else," DG said. "What's this about Glitch having a key to some big treasure?"

Cain gave a start. "How did you hear about that?"

"We were in the gardens over on the east side," Azkadellia answered. "One of the guards was talking to a maid, and we heard him tell her about it. Is it true?"

"What kind of treasure is it?" DG added.

Cain shook his head and held up a hand. "To my knowledge, it's just a rumor. There's no extra vault in the palace I'm aware of." He made a mental note to have a talk with his guards about exercising discretion and not spreading unfounded rumors.

"That's what I thought," Azkadellia said. She turned to DG. "Mr. Cain is the head of our security. Mother and Father are Queen and Consort. The . . . the witch knew every room in the palace. If none of them know about it, then it's just a rumor."

"Or someone's keeping it a secret," DG insisted. "He said Mother  _ told _ Father. They could be keeping it from us."

"And if they are, then they have a good reason for it," Cain stated, letting his time take on a more stern paternal quality. "It's best to leave this alone.  _ If _ it's true, and  _ if _ they decide to tell you, then they will."

Azkadellia nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Cain."

"My pleasure." With a quick bow, Cain hurried into the palace, hoping to catch up with his charge before he could get into too much mischief.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Over the next week, Cain and Ambrose settled into a somewhat comfortable routine. Each morning they met up for breakfast, followed by departmental meetings in preparation for the upcoming deegation visit. Cain was thankful that many of the meetings required his presence anyway, so he could still handle his side of the responsibilities the queen had entrusted him with.

After lunch, which Cain usually had to coerce Ambrose into eating, the two headed into Central City to accomplish another of Ambrose's endless tasks. It was during these precious few hours that Cain slowly came to know more about his friend.

Ambrose did more than help Agnes with her inn, or as Cain discovered, have food delivered to locals who needed it. One afternoon was spent helping several men rebuild the local school, while another was spent helping Edgar deliver food to several shelters, orphanages, and homes. One memorable afternoon was spent with Ambrose delivering books and handmade toys to local children. Watching the children swarm Ambrose and bring him to the ground was an image Cain would not soon forget. His comment about Glitch being a deep well had been more insightful than even he had known.

Ambrose had been telling the truth when he had said everyone in the area knew him. Every single person they came in contact with greeted Ambrose by name, or waved across a crowded street. Despite their familarity, no one seemed to know about his position in the palace. Cain had tried yet again to ask Ambrose why he kept it a secret, but Ambrose had ducked his head, mumbled half a response, and changed the subject.

The two always returned to the palace about an hour before dinner, when Ambrose had a standing meeting with Queen Olivia and Ahamo. They divided the time between updates on the rebuilding of Central City and sharing anecdotes from before the witch's reign. Cain frequently joined in, drawn into the conversation like an old friend.

After dinner with the royal family, Ambrose would retire to his lab, where he would flit from machine to machine like a butterfly, never settling long in one spot as he checked on several ongoing projects. It was here where Cain would bid him good night and turn over his protection detail to the night shift. Barring the occasional attempts at evading Cain's protection both at the palace and in the city, it had been the most successful week any of the guards who had been responsible for Ambrose could remember.

Before Cain knew it, one week had passed and the royal delegations were due to arrive the next day. He couldn't believe how much work there still was to be done, and he absently wondered if Ambrose could be convinced to skip out on his daily jaunts to the city in order to catch up on finishing the preparations.

Cain strode into the dining hall for breakfast right on time, his eyes automatically cataloging the faces of everyone present. He paused when he realized that Ambrose was missing.

"Where is he?" he asked with a put upon sigh.

Azkadellia and DG looked up at Cain's question. They glanced at each other and shrugged.

Cain pointedly ignored the smirk that his son was sending his way from the door at the opposite end of the room and sighed again. "I'll be right back."

The last place Cain had seen Ambrose the night before was in his lab, tinkering with a couple of metallic black boxes. He'd been more worn down than usual, his various responsibilities demanding more and more of his time. Cain had left instructions with Ambrose's night guards that they were to allow Ambrose only one more hour in his lab before escorting him back to his rooms, forcibly if necessary.

Cain had no doubt his orders had been followed. He also had no doubt that Ambrose had found a way to circumvent those orders. He headed straight for Ambrose's lab and, without bothering to knock, opened the door and walked in uninvited.

The lab was still and silent, a sharp contrast to how it usually was when Ambrose was working. There was no sign of the frenetic inventor or his guards. Cain cast a careful eye around the room, his instincts screaming at him that he'd find his friend here.

Sure enough, Cain's gaze fell on a mop of dark, messy curls propped on striped sleeves, partially obscured by tools and metal boxes of various sizes. With a sigh of fond exasperation, Cain crossed the room and gently shook Ambrose's shoulder. "Glitch. Hey, Glitch, wake up."

Ambrose sat up with a jerk, brown eyes wide and anxious as they darted around the room. Cain watched as Ambrose's memories clicked into place, his own momentary concern for Ambrose fading with Ambrose's panic. He didn't often see Ambrose wake up, but the few times he did, he couldn't help but hold his breath as he waited to see if Glitch would be the one to greet him.

"Oh, uh . . . Good morning, Cain," Ambrose greeted, running a hand through his curls and straightening his shirt. 

Cain folded his arms. "This doesn't look like your rooms. I thought I told your guards to take you there last night."

Ambrose stood, sending Cain an annoyed look as he began to clean his work table. "You did, and they did a fine job tucking me in."

"And yet I seem to find you here  _ without _ them," Cain observed.

"I needed to finish my latest invention," Ambrose said, dropping a wrench into a toolbox with a metallic clang. "They had your orders to follow. So we compromised."

"What exactly were the terms of this compromise?" Cain asked.

Ambrose collected two black boxes of different sizes and turned to Cain. "I let them think I was still in bed while I returned to my lab," he stated simply. "We all got what we wanted."

Cain rolled his eyes, hooking a hand around Ambrose's elbow. "That doesn't count if they aren't aware of it. Come on, headcase, we need to let them know you're okay."

"Of course they know I'm okay," Ambrose argued. "As far as they're aware, I'm fast asleep. Where  _ else _ would I be at this hour?"

Footsteps thundering in the hall echoed around them as they exited the lab. Cain stopped, keeping his hand on Ambrose's elbow as Ambrose's night guards turned the corner and skidded to an abrupt halt before them.

"Lose something?" Cain asked.

The two guards, George and Abe, simultaneously scowled and flushed in embarrassment. "Sorry, Cain," George said. "We thought . . . he was supposed to be . . ."

"Trust me, I know," Cain assured him. "Go ahead off shift. I've got him."

Ambrose smiled weakly and waved as his guards glared at him, taking their leave. Cain continued to pull Ambrose down the hall towards the dining room.

"It's, er . . . it's not still the middle of the night, is it?" Ambrose asked, his voice small.

"You mean it's too late for you to sneak back into your rooms undetected?" Cain asked. "You could say that."

"I'll apologize later," Ambrose decided. He shoved the larger of the boxes he carried into Cain's free hand. "I made this for you."

Cain stopped again, this time releasing Ambrose's elbow to grip the box with both hands. It was square, and no bigger than his palm. "What is it?"

"It's my latest idea!" Ambrose exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement. "It's a P.B.E.W.A.S.!"

Cain simply stared at Ambrose, unimpressed.

Ambrose held up his own box, about half the size of Cain's with a small, silver toggle switch attached. "A Panic Button Early Warning Alert System," he said, as if Cain should have known all along. "See, when I flip this switch . . ." He flipped the switch on his box. Almost instantly, a shrill whistling emitted from the box in Cain's hands. "It sends a signal to your box." Ambrose toggled his switch, silencing Cain's box.

"So you can irritate me even when we're not in the same room?" Cain asked, only half-joking.

"Don't be ridiculous," Ambrose said. "I would be  _ much _ more subtle than that."

"Of course," Cain muttered.

"Don't you see?" Ambrose asked. "With the P.B.E.W.A.S., you don't have to follow me everywhere anymore. If I run into trouble, I can switch it on to let you know I need help."

Cain had to admit that the idea had merit. He also had to admit there were several holes in Ambrose's plan. "How would I even know where to find you?"

"You haven't had much trouble finding me before," Ambrose pointed out.

"Humor me," Cain said.

"It's simple, really," Ambrose said. "The farther apart we are, the farther apart the beeps are. When we are within ten feet, it'll make that whistling sound."

Cain nodded. "How far apart can we be and it still work?"

"I . . . don't know," Ambrose admitted. "I would need to test that."

Cain turned the box over in his hands, deep in thought. "I don't know, Glitch. Your definition of trouble and mine are apparently very different. How can I be sure you'd actually use this thing?"

"I'm not dishonest, Cain," Ambrose said, hurt infusing his tone. "If I say I'll use it, I'll use it."

Cain laid a hand on Ambrose's shoulder, squeezing it gently. He ducked his head slightly to catch Ambrose's eyes. "Hey," he said, his tone soft. "Already on my watch you've slipped your guards, snuck out to dangerous parts of the city, and gotten mugged. None of those times are ones you considered to be trouble, but every single one of them are times where I needed to be by your side. It's not about being in danger; it's about having timely backup in case there  _ is _ danger. If you were to get into serious trouble and I wasn't there to help you, I wouldn't ever forgive myself."

Compassion flooded Ambrose's eyes. "I promise that if there's even a  _ hint _ of danger, I'll signal you," he vowed.

Cain nodded, squeezing Ambrose's shoulder again and releasing him. "All right, then," he agreed, guiding his friend back towards the dining hall. "But you're still getting a personal escort when you leave the palace."

Ambrose frowned. "You mean the palace grounds, right?"

Cain smirked.

"Cain? Cain!"

*****

Royal petitions were traditionally held at the end of every week. With the delegations arriving the next day, and at Ambrose's suggestion, Queen Olivia agreed to hear petitions that afternoon. As a result, the main foyer and throne room of the palace were packed with people, most seeking an audience with the queen, and some hoping to see with their own eyes that the true rulers of the O.Z. we're back in control,

Jeremiah hovered in the background of the crowded throne room, spotting Wyatt Cain's distinctive blond hair as the former Tin Man directed his guards to various locations. Tin Men from Central City also filled his ranks, being disbursed to help cover weak spots in their security force. Jeremiah searched the faces in the room, but try as he might, he couldn't spot Ambrose among them.

Beside him, a man shifted from one foot to the other impatiently. He was clad in a palace guard uniform that Jeremiah had liberated from his cousin's laundry. "Well?"

Jeremiah frowned. "He should be here. His bodyguard is right there."

"Where else would he be?" the man asked.

Jeremiah considered the options. "Maybe he's with some of the other staff. He had a full schedule today."

"So do I, and being caught and hanged for treason wasn't part of it," the man said.

Jeremiah ignored the comment. "Come on," he said. "Let's try the kitchens."

The two threaded their way through the crowd and into the halls that led them deeper into the palace. Maids and other servants were bustling about, too focused on their own tasks to pay Jeremiah any attention. Jeremiah paid them no more attention than they paid him, leading his companion around a corner and towards the kitchens.

Ambrose's bright voice caused them to pause and duck behind a nearby pillar. Carefully, they peered around it and saw the advisor walking in their direction, speaking animatedly with a young man.

". . . do just fine," Ambrose was saying. "You remembered in time. Head down to the spice stalls and pick up some more. The staff has everything well enough in hand for you to leave at the moment."

"I can't believe I forgot," the young man said. "Mama would have skinned me alive."

"Hardly," Ambrose replied, his tone affectionate. "Hurry on now, before the stalls close up."

"Thanks Ambrose!" The young man broke into a jog, hurrying past Jeremiah's hiding spot.

"If you're going to do it, do it now," Jeremiah hissed.

The man raised a small, modified crossbow, a tranquilizer dart already loaded and ready. He took careful aim and, with a steady breath, pulled the trigger.

"Ambrose!"

The advisor turned at the sound of his name. The dart, originally aimed for his neck, embedded itself in the shoulder of his suit jacket. Jeremiah and his companion cursed softly and pressed themselves out of sight behind the pillar.

Ambrose grunted softly, feeling a small sting in his shoulder. Turning his head, his slender fingers plucked the dart out of his jacket and cradled it carefully. His dark eyes studied the dart and scanned the corridor, but could find nothing out of place.

"Ambrose!"

Ambrose straightened, closing his fingers around the dart and hiding his fist behind his back as an older woman stormed through the kitchen doors, intent on finding him.

"Yes, Mrs. Everett?" Ambrose asked.

The woman stopped in front of Ambrose and planted her hands on her hips. "Where is that boy of mine? Don't tell me you don't know; I saw him leave with you."

"I sent him to fetch more cumin from the market," Ambrose replied. He blinked as the room began to wobble around him. "He'll be back shortly."

Whatever had the head chef in a sour mood was quickly forgotten as concern overtook her features. "Are you all right, Ambrose?" she asked.

Ambrose smiled brightly, feeling increasingly woozy. "Of course!" he exclaimed. "Just a bit lightheaded. I'm afraid I didn't get much sleep last night."

"And skipped a meal or two along the way, no doubt," Mrs. Everett correctly surmised. "Perhaps I should send for Mr. Cain?"

"No!" Ambrose cried. He gentled his tone. "I mean, no, no need for that. I won't say no to a nice cup of muglug, though."

Mrs. Everett harrumphed, but took Ambrose's arm. "I suppose I could rustle you up something in my kitchens for an overworked advisor. I swear, Ambrose, you need someone to keep . . ."

Their voices trailed away as the kitchen doors swung shut behind them. Jeremiah risked a glance, then tugged his companion down the hall after him.

"Guaranteed shot?" Jeremiah barked once they were in a more secluded area. "You missed!"

"He moved," the man replied curtly.

"He'll be more on guard now," Jeremiah argued.

"Then we'll have to be more careful," the man retorted. "We'll track him and try again tomorrow night."

Jeremiah was unhappy with the decision, and the extended time frame, but reluctantly agreed when he realized he had no other options. "No mistakes," he warned. "If we're caught . . ."

"We won't be," the man said. "Keep your mouth shut and meet me in the main foyer at dusk."

The man slipped away, ignoring Jeremiah's sputtering.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The morning of the much anticipated visit dawned blue and bright. Many of the palace workers took the favorable weather as a sign of good fortune as they hurried about, finalizing last minute details.

Cain's senses were on high alert as he directed his guards to their posts and checked in with each one. The first of the noble houses were due to be formally presented to the Queen and her family in the next few minutes, but Ambrose had yet to arrive.

The Queen was seated on her throne, dressed elegantly in a vivid emerald green gown. Beside her sat Ahamo, clad in his best black suit that was accented in the same emerald green color his wife wore. The two watched the goings on of the throne room comfortably from the dais, hands linked and exuding a calm air amidst the chaotic energy in the room.

Azkadellia climbed the steps of the dais, dressed in a simple emerald gown that covered her from throat to foot, a modest contrast to the dresses the witch had forced her to wear. She claimed the chair beside Ahamo and adjusted her gown as Jeb ushered DG to her own chair beside her mother. DG's gown was also emerald green, with long sleeves and a scoop neck. The resemblance to her sister was striking, though it was clear to everyone who knew her that she was not comfortable in her dress.

Cain cast another look around the throne room, watching as everyone moved to their designated positions before the main doors opened. Still no sign of the high advisor.

Olivia, too, looked around the room. "Where's Ambrose?"

Before the uneasy feeling in Cain's stomach had a chance to grow, a side door slammed shut and Ambrose hurried up the steps to the dais to take his position between Olivia and DG.

"My apologies, your majesty," Ambrose said, straightening the cuffs of his black and emerald green dress coat. "Last minute adjustments."

"Of course, Ambrose." Olivia nodded to Cain, who in turn signaled his guards to open the main doors.

Finely dressed men, women, and children from all over the O.Z. filtered into the room, lining the carpet that led to the dais that held the royal family. Murmurs of awe and approval followed the people's first sight of the reunited family. Dressed in their finest clothes and expertly coiffed, they were an impressive and humbling sight. Any fears  the witch's return dissipated in the face of the confident front the Queen and her family presented.

Cain positioned himself beside the dais next to Azkadellia and her personal guard, Summer. His position had been selected by the Queen herself, who feared that anyone looking to exact revenge on the witch would have a prime opportunity to take their rage out on her oldest daughter. Cain agreed with the assessment wholeheartedly, and he made sure to position himself where he had the best view to anticipate and prevent any attacks.

The first noble family to arrive was clad in fine silks of deep red. The man, woman, and teenage boy strode gracefully down the carpet to the dais, pausing before the family and bowing low.

"Lord and Lady Cardiff, and their son Lord Daniel," Ambrose announced, his voice clear and regal.

The family moved to one side of the carpet as the next noble family, this time with two young daughters and clad in bright blue silken robes approached and bowed low.

"Lord and Lady Savoy, and their daughters Lady Camilla and Lady Karen," Ambrose announced.

The two girls giggled softly at the title, hushed by their blushing mother. Ambrose bent protocol slightly by winking mischievously at the girls before resuming his emotionless mask. DG ignored protocol entirely, smiling broadly at the girls and giving them a little wave.

Cain studied each noble face as they took turns being recognized. He noted that, after rising from their bow, every single eye sought out Azkadellia's face, as if to reassure themselves that the witch was truly gone. Cain could sense the rising tension in Azkadellia's rigid spine with each look, but to her credit, none of it showed on her face.

The last noble family consisted of an older man about sixty annuals, accompanied by a man and a woman around Cain's age. Cain knew from his security reports that they were twins, but their resemblance was uncanny enough to be apparent to everyone. All three wore clothes the color of spun gold, setting of the golden hues of the twins' hair.

"Lord Aviano, and his son Lord Eric and daughter Lady Emily," Ambrose announced.

Cain's gaze sharpened as Lord Eric's eyes sought out Ambrose instead of Azkadellia the way his father's and sister's did. He made a mental note to keep an eye on the heir to Aviano house.

"Welcome, noble houses and friends of the O.Z.," Olivia greeted. "We are overjoyed to see you all again, and look forward to reforging our bonds between our houses once more."

Everyone applauded politely at her words. Cain shifted his position to get a better line of sight on the House of Aviano.

As the applause died down, Olivia and Ahamo stood and moved to the top step of the dais. Azkadellia rose as well, descending the steps to stand on the main floor and to the side. Ambrose gently guided DG to her feet and down the steps to join Azkadellia, then strode confidently down the carpet to the main entrance of the throne room. All eyes in the room followed him, but Ambrose gave no sign of unease.

Taking his position beside the door, Ambrose turned to face Olivia and Ahamo. "Announcing her majesty of Elosia, Queen Avalina."

Five guards dressed in seafoam green entered the room and marched up the carpet before splitting to either side, forming a gauntlet. On cue, the five guards Cain had assigned to the Elosian contingent moved forward, completing the gauntlet.

A woman about Olivia's age, also clad in seafoam green, entered the room. Ambrose offered her his arm, which she accepted, and the two walked together up to the dais.

"Welcome to the O.Z.," Olivia greeted. She smiled fondly. "It's good to see you again, Ava."

Avalina returned the smile with one of her own. "Likewise, Liv. I look forward to catching up with you."

Ambrose escorted Avalina to a reserved position next to the dais, her guards taking their posts around her. Releasing her arm, Ambrose bowed gracefully, then returned to his post by the main doors to announce the next arrivals.

Cain couldn't help but be impressed as the king and queen of Pharos were announced. He knew for a fact that Ambrose had not had much time to rehearse his lines or practice the order of his movements, but Ambrose executed each one with a finesse that suggested hours of practice.

After the king and prince of Saltz had been formally welcomed by Olivia, the Queen turned her attention to the entire room, commanding their attention effortlessly.

"On behalf of the O.Z. and my family, I welcome all of you to Central City," she announced. "It has been a long and dark fifteen annuals under the witch's control, but we are now free. Over the next three weeks, we hope to renew old bonds and strengthen new. It is the dawn of a new age for us all."

Cheers and applause erupted at her words. Olivia smiled, allowing it to go on for longer than normal before raising a hand for silence once again.

"It is my pleasure to invite you to our Welcome Feast this evening at sunset," she said. "We will be sharing in delicacies from all over the O.Z. as we honor the brave men and women whose actions contributed to the defeat of the witch."

Cheers rang out again, along with roars of approval. Cain spotted Ambrose smiling approvingly and applauding near the main doors and shook his head. He had no doubt in his mind that Ambrose did not count himself among those indicated by the Queen.

As soon as the visiting royals had been escorted from the room, followed by the noble houses, the rest of the visitors began to file out of the throne room. Cain nodded to Karson and Dell as they took charge of escorting Olivia, Ahamo, Azkadellia, and DG through the side door. Cain moved through the room to stand at Ambrose's side, where an older man had captured the advisor's attention.

Cain nodded respectfully to the man and turned to Ambrose. "Coming, Advisor?" he asked.

Ambrose startled. "Cain! Where have you been?"

"Here the whole time," Cain assured him. "The family's in the next room, waiting for you."

"Oh, thank you." Ambrose excused himself from his conversation with the older man and walked with Cain to the door the royal family had used, ducking out of the throne room and across the hall to the waiting room.

Cain closed the door behind them and stood in front of it, completing the circle of guards that lined the room. Ambrose continued to where Olivia sat and bowed. "Your majesty."

Olivia grasped Ambrose's hand and tugged him to sit beside her. "Excellent work, Ambrose. And Mr. Cain. Everything was perfect."

Cain nodded respectfully as Ambrose mumbled a bashful thanks.

"Now what?" DG asked.

"Just the feast tonight," Ambrose answered. "Right now, all our visitors are being escorted to their rooms and are settling in."

"So I can change out of this stuffy thing?" DG asked, tugging at her dress.

"For now," Ahamo laughed. "You'll need to be back in it for the feast."

"Fine by me," DG muttered.

"Any security concerns?" Olivia asked Cain, her eyes flickering to her oldest daughter.

Cain took a step forward. "Nothing we didn't already expect," Cain assured her. "Mostly curiosity, but no overt threats."

Relief filled Olivia's trademark eyes, and she nodded. "Good," she said. "Then I suggest we all go and take care of whatever we need in preparation for tonight."

DG was instantly on her feet and out the door, her guards right behind her. After a moment's hesitation, Azkadellia followed suit with her own guard.

Olivia and Ahamo stood together, nodding to Cain and Ambrose as they, too, took their leave. Cain turned to Ambrose.

"I need to do security checks on all my posts," he told Ambrose. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to stay in the palace this afternoon?"

"I need to confirm the Queen's appointments tomorrow with Queen Avalina and two of the noble houses, so that will be acceptable," Ambrose replied. "I hate to miss my visit, though."

"Why don't we plan for an extended visit this weekend?" Cain suggested. "You can finish the heating system for the orphanage and still have time to help Edgar with his deliveries."

"That's a terrific idea!" Ambrose exclaimed. He considered Cain for a bit. "If you'd like to invite Jeb along, I think he'd enjoy spending the time with you. Just make sure he knows the rule."

"I'll let him know," Cain assured him, touched by the offer. "Thanks. Do you have your switch?"

Ambrose reached into his jacket pocket and showed the box to Cain. "As promised."

"Good," Cain said. "Keep your eyes open, headcase."

Ambrose rolled his eyes and waved Cain away, exiting the waiting room and heading in the opposite direction from his friend.

The corridors in this part of the palace were rarely traveled, housing unused guest suites. Ambrose relished the quiet, finding it soothing to nerves frayed by the stress of the formal greetings in the throne room. The advisor took a deep breath and released it slowly, letting his shoulders drop as he took the long way back to his personal study.

His footsteps echoed off of the walls, a rhythmic pattern to accompany his moderate pace. Ambrose let his mind wander, allowing it freedom to bounce from one thought to the next and trusting it to return when he called for it.

Distracted as he was, he had no warning.

Hands seized Ambrose and drew him into the shadows. One thick arm wrapped around Ambrose's chest, pinning his arms to his sides and holding him flush against a body much bigger than his. A second beefy hand covered Ambrose's mouth, muffling his cries before they could escape. The assault was so sudden and quick that Ambrose was immobilized before he was fully aware of the threat.

A second man moved into Ambrose's line of sight, his face obscured by scarves, leaving only his eyes free. He glared at Ambrose.

"One wrong move and the Queen will be looking for a new head advisor by dinner," he hissed.

Ambrose's brown eyes flashed anger at the threat. He valiantly pushed his terror down, looking for his chance to escape. His hand twitched toward his jacket pocket, trying to reach his panic button, but the hold on his arms was too tight.

"Which way?" a raspy voice demanded beside his ear.

"Down the hall further and to the left," the man in front of him said. "There's a secret passage that leads into a tunnel. The tunnel will take us right into the city."

Shock with a thread of real fear gripped Ambrose. The only way for the man to know that . . .

_He_ _worked_ _in_ _the_ _palace_.

Ambrose's heart thudded in his chest. He wriggled in his captor's grasp, forcing his captor to adjust his grip. The slight change in pressure on his arms was enough to allow Ambrose to reach his switch through his jacket pocket and toggle it on.

Success made him weak with relief, but it also made it easier for his captor to hoist him into a tighter hold. Ambrose tried to twist his body as his captor moved to follow the traitor, hoping to unbalance him and slow him down long enough for help to arrive.

The traitor, as Ambrose had dubbed him, had moved to the end of the hall, but turned back when he noticed that Ambrose's captor had barely moved.

"Come on," he hissed, storming back towards them. "We could be caught any minute!"

"You think you could do better?" Ambrose's captor snapped. "He's not exactly easy to move!"

The traitor moved closer to Ambrose as if to help. Taking his chance, Ambrose kicked out one foot. As soon as the traitor caught it, Ambrose used the support to swing his other foot in a roundhouse kick that connected with the traitor's face, sending the traitor spinning onto the ground.

Using the momentum from the kick, Ambrose twisted out of his captor's hold. Ducking down, he swept his foot around, knocking his captor's foot out from under him. Ambrose continued his spin, rising gracefully to his feet and settling into a defensive stance.

In the distance, Ambrose heard the faint sound of beeping. Relief washed over him. "Cain! Here!"

His captor regained his feet, staggering slightly. Growling, he charged at Ambrose.

Ambrose deftly sidestepped the man, landing a blow to the back of his neck. The man fell to the ground, dazed but not unconscious.

A soft sound was all Ambrose heard before a sharp pain exploded in the back of his head, sending stars bursting in his eyes. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

Jeremiah stood over Ambrose's still body, the candlestick from a nearby table still in his hands. He dropped the candlestick beside Ambrose and turned to his companion, who was struggling to his feet. The sound of running feet and a piercing beeping was filling the air around them.

"We need to get out of here, now," the man said.

"The advisor-," Jeremiah protested.

"No time!" The man shoved Jeremiah down the hall ahead of him. Jeremiah, realizing the danger closing in, turned and led his partner away.

A loud, piercing whistle heralded Cain's arrival along with five other guards, who immediately spread out to secure the area and look for signs of intruders. Cain dropped to his knees at Ambrose's side, checking on his friend.

"Ambrose!" He shook Ambrose's shoulder, then searched Ambrose's pockets looking for the panic button. He quickly switched it off, ending the shrill noise. Cain returned his attention to Ambrose, gently carding his fingers through Ambrose's hair and coming away with blood.

"Parker, get the medico and bring him to my rooms," Cain ordered. "Rich, Ellen, and Tag, stay here and look for any signs of who was responsible for this. Derrick, help me carry Ambrose back to my rooms, then I want you to go and notify the Queen of the situation. Until we know who is responsible and what they want with Ambrose, he is not to be left alone at any time."

The guards immediately scrambled to obey. Cain gently turned Ambrose over onto his back and pulled Ambrose's left arm over his shoulders. With Derrick bracing Ambrose from the right, the two men carefully stood, the unconscious advisor held between them.

"Why would someone want to attack Ambrose?" Derrick asked Cain as they carried the still form down the hall. "He wouldn't hurt a fly."

"I don't know," Cain admitted through clenched teeth. "But it will be the last thing they ever do."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Jeremiah couldn't contain his trembling as he and the man he had hired entered the back room of the Emerald Eyes, a seedy pub on the outskirts of Central City. He'd known that the summons was coming, but even the foreknowledge did little to ease his growing terror.

The back room was dimly lit, casting shadows near the walls that were deep enough to hide a number of men. Jeremiah couldn't help but glance around as he moved to the single table in the center of the room where his lord and master sat waiting.

The lord coolly observed his quaking servant and the unimpressed man that accompanied him. Behind him, his personal bodyguards stood at alert, prepared to act against the unknown man if necessary.

"You have disappointed me, Jeremiah," the lord stated.

Jeremiah fell to his knees, bowing low. "I-I know, my lord."

"I warned you that failure would mean your life," the lord added.

Jeremiah cringed. The look of disgust on his companion's face did not go unnoticed by the lord.

"News of your sloppy kidnapping attempt spread through the palace like wildfire," the lord continued. "I cannot have such shoddy work from men in my employ."

The man beside Jeremiah bristled. "The advisor is more skilled than you anticipated, but he's not invulnerable. We  _ will _ succeed next time."

The lord tilted his head, considering him. "I think not."

Before anyone had time to react, one of the lord's bodyguards lifted his gun and fired. The man dropped to the ground beside Jeremiah, blood oozing from a perfectly aimed shot through the heart.

Jeremiah flinched at the sound, barely holding back a cry.

"The only reason you do not have a matching wound right now is because of your access to the palace," the lord told Jeremiah, who cowered at the cold voice. "I have tasked Liam here with retrieving the advisor for me. Your job is to get him into the palace. You will do exactly what he tells you. Fail me again, and no amount of access into the palace will keep me from getting rid of you."

*****

"Glitch?"

Ambrose frowned, feeling a dull ache in his skull. He turned his head away from the voice tugging him out of the blessed darkness.

The voice was insistent. "Come on, Glitch, open your eyes. I know you're awake."

Cain. It figured. Ambrose entertained the idea of ignoring him, but dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it had arrived. Cain was the only person he had ever met who could match him in stubbornness.

His eyes slowly blinked open, flinching slightly at the soft yellow light bathing the room. The fuzzy blob over him gradually sharpened into Cain's worried face.

"Cain?" Ambrose's voice sounded weak, even to his own ears. "What's wrong? Did I oversleep again?"

"Not exactly," Cain replied. Looking to his left, he moved out of Ambrose's field of view, only to be replaced by another familiar face.

"Raw!" Ambrose exclaimed. "What are you doing here? When did you get here?"

"Easy, Glitch." Cain's face appeared over Raw's shoulder as Raw gently cradled Ambrose's head in his hands. "He came back for the celebration, remember? Lucky for you he got here early. Let him fix that headache of yours, and we'll play twenty questions after he finishes."

Raw closed his eyes, and Ambrose unconsciously mimicked him. Warmth seeped into his head, soothing the last of the ache plaguing him. Ambrose heard the siren call of sleep beckoning to him once more and was about to answer it when Raw drew away.

"Glitch better now," Raw stated.

Ambrose opened his eyes, feeling more alert. He frowned when his surroundings finally registered in his brain, noting the fact that he was lying in an unfamiliar bed and surrounded by not only Raw and Cain, but by Olivia, Ahamo, Azkadellia, and DG as well. "Er . . . what's going on?"

"You were attacked in the east wing," Cain told him. "Someone whacked you over the head with a candlestick, giving you a pretty bad concussion. What do you remember?"

Ambrose slowly sat up, leaning against the headboard and frowned in thought. "It happened so fast . . . they planned it in advance."

"They?" Cain latched onto the word.

Ambrose looked up at him. "Two men. I got a good look at one of them, but the other one covered his face." He turned apologetically to Olivia. "I'm afraid he most likely works here in the palace."

Everyone gave a start. "Are you sure?" Ahamo asked.

Ambrose nodded. "He knew about the secret passage in the east wing. Only someone who works here in the palace would know that."

"Why would someone want to attack Glitch?" DG asked.

"Not attack," Raw spoke up, watching Ambrose with knowing eyes. "Kidnap."

Ambrose called on the memories Raw had glimpsed while healing him. "I think Raw is right. They wanted to take me out of the palace."

"But why?" DG frowned. "Does it have anything to do with the rumor?"

All eyes turned to her. "What rumor?" Ambrose demanded.

"The one about you having a key to some treasure," DG replied. "Everyone was talking about it."

Ambrose groaned and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the headboard. "Is that rumor  _ still _ going around? It's older than  _ you _ , DG, and completely untrue."

Cain caught the chagrined look on Olivia's face as she glanced at Ahamo and filed it away to think about later. He turned to Ambrose.

"True or not, it's a good lead," he stated. "If someone believes in it enough to try and take you out of the palace right under the nose of the Queen, then we need to consider the possibility before another attempt is made."

"I agree," Ambrose said, resting his hands on his blanket-covered lap. "These attempts are seriously interfering with my duties as advisor."

"Attempts?"

Azkadellia's voice was as soft as ever, but the echoed word was powerful enough to freeze everyone right down to their souls.

Ambrose's eyes widened at his unintentional slip. "I . . . did I say attempts?"

Cain folded his arms. "You did."

Ambrose glanced from face to face, seeing concern, disbelief, and from DG a plea for a denial. He dropped his eyes to his hands, twisting his fingers on his lap. "I . . . er, there might have been an incident yesterday involving a tranquilizer dart."

The room exploded in a cacophony of noise, cries of anger and demands for information feeling the air. Ambrose's shoulders hunched, his head ducked lower in shame.

He felt Raw stand and move away, the weight beside him replaced with that of someone smaller. A gentle hand cupped his cheek, carefully encouraging him to lift his head. Sheepish brown eyes met concerned lavender.

"Why did you say nothing, Ambrose?" Olivia asked gently.

"It only hit my jacket," Ambrose replied. "The dose I got barely affected me, and no one else was around that I could see. We had more important matters to take care of."

"None of which take precedence over your own life," Olivia told him firmly. "Are there any other incidents you wish to share?"

Ambrose hesitated.

"What is it, Glitch?" Cain asked gently.

"The mugger last week," Ambrose said. "I did think he was a mugger, honest, but he never demanded my plats. And . . ."

"And?" Ahamo prompted.

Ambrose frowned. "His eyes. They were the same as the man who tried to take me. The one whose face was covered."

Olivia dropped her hand to Ambrose's clenched fingers, squeezing them firmly. She turned to Cain.

"I would like no less than four guards assigned to Ambrose around the clock until the matter is settled," she stated. "Do whatever you must to ensure it."

Cain nodded. "Already done, your majesty."

Olivia smiled and turned back to Ambrose. "I know you don't like it, but it's for your own protection," she said. "We lost you once and were very lucky to get you back. I can't risk losing you again."

Ambrose could find no words equal in response. He nodded mutely.

Olivia gave his fingers a final squeeze and stood, giving her daughters a nod. "We must get ready for the feast. Mr. Cain, Mr. Raw, Ambrose, we would like to see you there, but there is no rush. Please, take all the time you need."

Cain bowed as Olivia and Ahamo ushered their daughters out. Once the door closed, he crossed his arms and looked expectantly at Ambrose.

"Where exactly am I?" Ambrose asked, pointedly ignoring the look on Cain's face. He flung the blankets to one side and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"My rooms," Cain replied. "Three attacks?"

Ambrose stood, his balance a little shaky. Raw steadied him with a hand on his elbow. Ambrose nodded his thanks to the Viewer and slowly moved to where his dress coat lay draped over a chair. "Your rooms? Why not mine?"

"Because apparently people are trying to kidnap you, and my rooms don't have any secret passages to help them do it," Cain replied. "Three attacks?"

"You said that."

"You never replied."

Ambrose shrugged into his coat and checked his reflection in Cain's mirror. "I didn't realize the mugger counted until just now. Besides, you were there, remember?"

"Vividly." Cain moved to Ambrose's side, gripping his arm and turning him away from the mirror. "A tranquilizer dart?"

Ambrose nodded, looking down. "I tested the liquid. Last night. Just a sedative. Nothing dangerous."

Cain tightened his grip and lightly shook Ambrose. "Except for the part where you would be incapacitated and unable to call for help or defend yourself. Glitch, you promised."

Guilt shrouded Ambrose's eyes. "I'm sorry. I am. Just . . . there really  _ was _ no danger. By the time I was hit, Mrs. Everett appeared and led me to the kitchens, so I wasn't alone when I started to feel the affects, and I couldn't find any sign of the person who shot me, and-."

"I still needed to know, Glitch," Cain cut off his rambling, releasing his arm.

"I know," Ambrose said quietly. "I'm sorry."

Cain sighed heavily, scrubbing his face with his hands. "We need to figure out who would take the rumor seriously enough to kidnap you. I'm going to need to outsource some Tin Men for this investigation."

Ambrose scowled. "I really wish that rumor would just disappear already."

"Any idea how it got started?" Cain asked.

Ambrose shook his head. "The vaults here in the palace are protected by magic, and only a blood relative of the House of Gale can access it. Not even Ahamo can get in. Everyone knows that."

"Any other vaults?" Cain pressed.

"None that I can recall," Ambrose said. "I mean, I never even knew about the Emerald or the Gray Gale. The chances of someone knowing about some other treasure are slim at best."

"Then what is it you're supposed to have a key to?" Cain asked.

Ambrose threw his hands up into the air. "That's just it!" he exclaimed. "I've never been given a key, and I have nothing to do with treasure. My position as advisor only charges me with consultations to the royal family, organization and major diplomatic affairs, envoy of the Queen to foreign lands, and I serve as the bridge between the people and the Queen. Treasure is strictly Gale business, and Gale alone."

"Then we need to track the rumor back to its source and see if we're missing any other information," Cain decided.

Ambrose buttoned his suit coat. "How do you expect to do that? It's over twenty annuals old."

Cain picked up his own dress coat and pulled it on. "We find people who were here when the rumor started."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Despite all of the excitement brought about from Ambrose's attempted kidnapping, it only took one day for the palace to settle into the routine of hosting and entertaining foreign dignitaries.

Ambrose found fulfilling his responsibilities while under the constant supervision of four guards extremely frustrating. While he remained on his best behavior and refrained from trying to escape them, he was beginning to chafe under all of his new restrictions.

It didn't help that his frustrations were being compounded with guilt each time he saw Cain. The former Tin Man was clearly stretched to his limits between his regular duties, the investigation, and his insistence on pulling a shift on Ambrose's guard detail. Ambrose tried to convince Cain to turn at least one of his jobs over to someone else, but Cain stubbornly ignored him. It was this, more than anything else, that convinced Ambrose to maintain his good behavior.

In spite of the twenty-four hour guard, Cain insisted on Ambrose continuing to carry his P.B.E.W.A.S. on him at all times as backup. Ambrose seriously doubted anything could happen to him while constantly surrounded by palace guards, but he carried his switch just the same.

There had been no sign of the palace worker who had betrayed Ambrose, either. Cain had forced Ambrose to meet with every worker he could find in the palace, but there were so many in the employ of the Queen that it was impossible to track all of them down, especially as many were being loaned to the various noble houses and royalty. In the end, Ambrose had been instructed to be vigilant and keep an eye out for him.

The three days since his attempted kidnapping had been some of the most stressful Ambrose could remember. With the memories of the attack fading, the urgency to complete his responsibilities was quickly taking precedence over his safety. Rather than wait for Cain in the dining hall, Ambrose decided to continue on his way to the next item on his agenda.

Carrying his notepad in one hand, he strode down the hall, flanked by his four guards. He did his level best to ignore the gawking looks that fell in his wake, save for a quick scan to find the eyes of the traitor in the face of a trusted servant.

Cain emerged from a side corridor and fell in step easily. "I thought I told you that I wanted to come with you to see Lord Aviano today."

"You did," Ambrose assured him. "I'm on my way there now."

"We're you going to wait for me?" Cain asked.

"A royal schedule waits for no one," was the glib reply. Ambrose fixed Cain with a curious stare. "Why do you want to, anyway? You didn't come with me to see any of the other noble houses."

Cain shrugged. "Call it a hunch."

Ambrose lifted an eyebrow. "I hope this hunch is based in some fact. Do you have any idea the work involved in soothing the ruffled feathers of a noble house?"

"He can ruffle his feathers and lay an egg for all I care," Cain stated. "So long as he keeps his beak clean."

Ambrose stopped in front of an ornate door bearing the crest of Aviano, two guards wearing gold sashes on either side of it. He faced Cain fully. "Seriously, Cain. Please try to stay civil."

Cain wisely held his tongue as Ambrose knocked on the door.

"Enter."

The guards at the door each took a handle and opened the door, allowing Ambrose to enter. Cain stayed beside Ambrose as the advisor's protection detail spread out to the sides of the room.

Lord Aviano stood beside the fireplace in the sitting room, his son and daughter behind him. "Welcome, Lord Ambrose. Right on time as usual."

Cain watched as Ambrose stepped forward, slipping effortlessly into the mask of an experienced diplomat. "Thank you, Lord Aviano. I trust your rooms are to your liking?"

"Just as we left them," Aviano assured him. He gestured to the four plush armchairs on the rug by the fireplace. "Would you care to sit?"

"Thank you." Ambrose claimed a chair as the three members of Aviano house took the remaining three. Cain positioned himself right behind Ambrose like some glowering guardian angel.

"Shall I send for a chair for your friend?" Aviano offered, eyeing Cain in curiosity.

"Thanks, but I'm fine," Cain replied for Ambrose.

"We heard about your attack," Aviano stated with some delicacy. "We're glad to see you're all right."

Only the faintest dusting of pink high on Ambrose's cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. "Thank you for your concern. The Queen is taking the incident very seriously, I assure you. There will be no threat to you or your family while you are here."

"Of course not," Aviano agreed. "We are most safe under Mr. Cain's watchful eyes."

Cain lifted an eyebrow at the mention of his name, but Ambrose did not appear surprised in the least.

"I am here to formally invite you to a personal audience with her majesty," Ambrose stated. "The Queen is prepared to hear the needs of your land and people, and wishes to provide for those needs in whatever capacity she is able."

Aviano acknowledged the invite with a solemn nod. "We are thankful for the Queen's generosity, and we have prepared a list of needs for her. We also wish to extend our intention to provide whatever aid we can to our neighbors, tobe utilized as the Queen sees fit."

Ambrose nodded. "We appreciate your generosity. I will return tomorrow morning at ten to escort you to the Queen's receiving room. In the meantime, I hope to see you this evening at the Renewal Ball."

He stood, bringing everyone else to their feet. Cain's eyes fell on Lord Eric, who was watching Ambrose closely.

"Have a pleasant afternoon," Ambrose said, bowing respectfully. He turned and headed for the doors, not sparing Cain or his guards a single look.

Cain quickened his stride to catch up with Ambrose. "Do you have to do that for all noble houses?" he asked curiously.

"And for visiting royalty," Ambrose confirmed. "Although the wording varies a bit. Protocols upon protocols, and all that. Did you learn what you needed?"

"I'm not sure yet," Cain admitted. "There's something about Lord Eric, but I can't put my finger on it."

"Eric's always been, shall we say, aloof," Ambrose stated. "We went to school together, you know. I really don't think he's the sort of person who would want to hurt me."

"People change," was Cain's response. "Listen, the Renewal Ball is in a few hours; do you have any other stops to make before then?"

"Just to check on the preparations and the food," Ambrose replied. "Why?"

"I need to track down a few people, so I won't be your shadow for awhile," Cain answered. "Keep your switch close, don't give your guards the slip, and stay in public areas as much as possible."

"You know, Cain, you make a wonderful mother," Ambrose teased.

Cain lightly swatted the back of the advisor's head. "I'm serious, sweetheart. Be good."

Ambrose rolled his eyes. "I promise."

*****

Olivia was busy catching up with her cousin in the gardens, which was where Cain finally tracked down Karson. Standing beside the older guard and joining the watch, Cain said, "Can I ask you some questions?"

"Of course," Karson replied. "Is this about Ambrose?"

"Yep," Cain confirmed.

Karson nodded. "You know, I've been the Queen's personal guard since right around the time she ascended the throne. I've known Ambrose since he was first apprenticed to the previous head advisor." Karson's eyes flickered to Cain as they scanned the garden for threats. "He's a good kid, Cain, and a damn fine advisor."

"I'm beginning to realize just how good," Cain commented. "You've known the Queen this long; what can you tell me about this mysterious treasure?"

"Probably not much more than you've already heard," Karson admitted. "Just that I once heard the Queen tell the consort about it. It was when he first had a guard assigned to him."

"Just that he holds the key to the treasure?" Cain repeated. "Any idea what the treasure is?"

"No," Karson answered. "I'm sure there's been plenty of speculation, but I personally never heard what it was."

Cain nodded, filing the information away in the back of his mind. "What can you tell me about Aviano?"

The question startled Karson out of scanning the grounds. He turned to face Cain. "The house? Or the family?"

"Anything that might suggest a plot to kidnap Ambrose," Cain stated.

Karson sighed, turning back to the Queen and gathering his thoughts. "Well, Aviano has always been one of the more temperamental houses," he began. "They're the first to lodge complaints or demands, and they're the last to share resources. They're the best house to turn to when you need to conduct negotiations. Go far enough back in their history, and you'll find several attempts to take the crown from the House of Gale, but the last attempt was a very long time ago. Several generations past, actually." Karson hesitated. "They supported the witch in the earliest annuals of her reign."

Cain gave a start. "They did?"

Karson nodded. "They retracted once it became clear how evil and twisted the witch was, but back in the beginning? Yes."

Cain let out a slow breath. "That's . . . interesting."

Karson glanced at Cain again, then resumed his watch. "They're wealthy enough, though. Why would they need the treasure Ambrose supposedly holds the key to?"

"That's a good question," Cain said. "Maybe they think having the O.Z.'s treasure would mean controlling the O.Z. itself. Maybe they think the treasure gives them some kind of advantage. Or maybe they just want more than what they have."

"That's a lot of maybes," Karson observed.

"Unfortunately, that's all I have at the moment," Cain replied. "If they supported the witch but not her methods, it stands to reason that they still want to take the crown. It makes sense, even if their motives regarding Ambrose doesn't." He turned to face Karson. "Thanks for the info. I'll see you tonight at the ball."

*****

The Renewal Ball had been one of the first events to be scheduled, even before the idea of inviting the noble houses and royal families from neighboring kingdoms. As soon as the majority of the witch's followers had been contained and rebuilding had started, the idea of a formal celebration had begun to circulate. Cain personally never cared for these types of affairs when he had worked the Mystic Man's protection detail; too many opportunities for an assassination attempt, for one thing. However, Cain could not deny that a celebration was needed, and needed badly.

Cain tugged on his dress coat yet again, one hand straightening the medal around his neck. He spared an envious thought for his guards, whose formal uniforms were much simpler and less conspicuous than the dressy affair he had been required to wear as a recognized hero of the O.Z.

"Quit fiddling, you look fine." A hand slapped his away from his neck. Cain turned to glare at Ambrose, who was also clad in one of his finest uniforms, complete with his own medal. Rather than feel awkward and uncomfortable, Ambrose wore his raiment like a second skin.

"How can you possibly feel comfortable right now?" Cain grumbled.

"You get used to it," Ambrose assured him.

"Gods forbid." Cain ran a finger under his collar. "So after the Queen's formal welcome, is there anything else official, or does everyone just get on with it?"

Cain already knew the answer, having gone over every last second of the planned event with not only his staff, but with Ambrose's as well, but he also knew the best way to keep an eye on the advisor was to keep him occupied.

Ambrose shook his head. "If by 'just get on with it' you mean 'have a wonderful time with good friends, great food, and excellent music', then yes, that's all that's planned." He turned to Cain, his hands on his hips. "Honestly, Cain, we need to get you to loosen up more. Let your hair down, have a good time."

"I'm working," Cain reminded him flatly.

"You can still enjoy yourself," Ambrose admonished him. "I'll tell you what; I'll find a nice girl for you to dance with. You'll see. It'll be fun."

Ambrose took a step forward, but Cain's hand shot out, clamping on his arm and pulling him back.

"Not so fast, Glitch," he said. "The Queen and I agreed to leave the guards around the perimeter of the room as long as you stayed with me, Raw, or one of the family."

"Cain, take a look around!" Ambrose swept his arm out, gesturing to the crowded room. "There are over a hundred people here, and nearly half of your guard force is positioned inside and out of this room. What could possibly happen?"

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," Cain replied. "Come on, let's get you over to the head table. The Queen's getting ready to give her welcome."

*****

Jeremiah watched as the advisor was escorted to the head table by the head of palace security. Anger was slowly beginning to fester in the pit of his stomach at the sight of the man who continued to elude him.

It hadn't been easy avoiding Ambrose's scrutiny of the staff, either. Fortunately, Jeremiah always managed to find a reason to be elsewhere, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he was found out.

Liam had completely taken over control of the operation, leaving Jeremiah to become little more than a gopher; getting uniforms and copies of the advisor's ever-changing daily agenda. He had also informed Jeremiah, in no uncertain terms, that he was to observe only. No foolish plans or sloppy plots. 

The overbearing guard was in the room, circulating as one of the Tin Men from the city. Jeremiah had glimpsed him twice, but after a scorching glare the second time, the young man had made himself scarce.

Jeremiah knew that if this kept up, his lord would find no use for him and eliminate him. He needed to prove his worth to his lord, and he knew just how to do it.

Moving to the side of the room near the door to the kitchens, Jeremiah turned and faced the head table. Sure enough, as the Queen stood and greeted the room, everyone turned to face her as well, leaving no one to watch as he slipped into the kitchens.

The kitchen staff were busy running from station to station, calling for spices and ingredients and moving trays of food into and out of various ovens. Jeremiah moved unerringly around the bustle and to a quiet counter on the opposite side of the room.

Retrieving a bottle of wine, Jeremiah poured it into six separate flutes. Tossing the bottle into the trash, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small blue vial. The alchemist he had purchased it from had assured him that a single drop would make its victim spin into a fiery rage. Jeremiah emptied the vial equally into all six flutes.

Placing the vial back into his pocket, he set all of the drinks onto a serving tray and lifted it, heading back to the ballroom.

The Queen's speech was already over. Most of the couples in the room were twirling gracefully around the dance floor to the lively tune being played. Jeremiah spotted Ambrose laughing as he spun a smiling Azkadellia in his arms. Cain was off to the side of the dance floor, being coaxed by the younger princess into a dance. Jeremiah skirted the room, searching the faces and selecting his targets carefully.

He found his cousin stationed near the main doors. His plan relied on precision timing; he needed Kerrin to be closer to the advisor to make it work. Jeremiah headed for him.

"Kerrin," he hissed, careful not to spill the tainted drinks.

"Jeremiah?" Kerrin asked. "What's wrong?"

Jeremiah looked over his shoulder furtively, pretending to look for someone. "I heard one of the guests talking about Lord Ambrose. I think they might try something tonight."

"Are you sure?" Kerrin asked, taking a step from the wall. "Did you see who?"

Jeremiah shook his head. "No. You should move closer to Lord Ambrose, just in case."

Kerrin frowned. "We need to tell Cain . . ."

"I'll do that," Jeremiah said. "You just be ready."

He watched his cousin move into position and headed for a group of young men. Offering them the drinks, Jeremiah set the empty tray aside and hurried away.

He had barely reached head table when a loud shout and a crash caused the music to stop. Everyone stopped what they were doing to turn and watch, including Ambrose, who unconsciously pushed Azkadellia behind him.

The young men who had drunk the tainted wine were just getting started, two rolling around on the ground in headlocks while two more traded fierce blows. Jeremiah couldn't see the remaining two men as palace guards swarmed the fight.

Ambrose took a step towards the brawl, but Cain threw his arm in front of him. Jeremiah couldn't hear his words, but the commanding point to stay put was more than clear. As Cain moved to help his men, Jeremiah saw his chance.

Kerrin had already moved closer to Ambrose, Jeremiah's lie having prompted him there. Jeremiah moved beside him. "It's a distraction," he told Kerrin. "We need to get Lord Ambrose out of here!"

Kerrin was unconvinced. "Cain said for him to stay."

"It's just what they're expecting!" Jeremiah insisted. "I'll come with you and help, but we need to move  _ now _ !"

The crashing and shouting grew louder. Frowning at the brawl, Kerrin pushed forward and took Ambrose's arm. "Ambrose, you need to come with me."

Ambrose frowned at him. "What? Why?"

"This may be a distraction to target you," Kerrin replied. "Please, I need to move you to a safer place."

Ambrose clearly wanted to protest, but the words died on his lips at the seriousness in Kerrin's face. He nodded and allowed himself to be pulled away and into the hall.

The silence in the corridor was chilling compared to the cacophony of the brawl. Jeremiah followed behind as Kerrin led Ambrose further from the ballroom.

They paused at the intersection of a corridor that would take them either to the throne room or down to the guards' quarters. Kerrin turned to Jeremiah. "We'll be safer in the guard rooms."

Ambrose was frowning at Jeremiah, studying him as if seeing him for the first time. "I'm sorry . . . do I know you?".

Jeremiah reached into his suit coat and pulled out a shorter, modified pain stick. Sparking it, he jolted Ambrose in the chest. Ambrose cried out and fell to the ground, twitching.

"Jeremiah, what are you doing?" Kerrin cried, appalled.

"Sorry, cousin, but I need to do this." He jammed the stick against Kerrin's chest, sending Kerrin to the floor. Kerrin screamed as electricity coursed through him.

Jeremiah pulled the pain stick back and punched his cousin in the jaw. Kerrin fell back, unconscious.

Taking his cousin's gun from its holster, Jeremiah cocked the hammer and pointed the barrel at Ambrose, who was curled up and fighting back ripples of pain. He aimed the sparking end of the pain stick at the advisor with his other hand.

"Tell me where the key is and I'll let you live," Jeremiah ordered.

Ambrose's hand brushed his coat pocket, and he blinked up at Jeremiah through tears of pain. "There  _ is _ no key. You've been misled."

"Liar!" Jeremiah jabbed him with the pain stick again. Ambrose cried out and curled away from it. "Tell me, or I'll shoot!"

"I'm telling the truth!" Ambrose insisted. "There's no key! There's no secret treasure!"

Jeremiah pressed the pain stick against Ambrose's leg and held it there, watching with a sickening glee as Ambrose gritted his teeth to hold his pained cries at bay. After long, torturous moments, he finally released Ambrose. Ambrose slumped on the tiled floor, letting out sobbing breaths.

A shrill whistle slowly rose into the air, but Jeremiah paid no attention to it. He stepped closer to Ambrose, waving the stick closer to Ambrose. "You don't get it," he said. "If I don't get that key, I'm dead."

The whistling grew louder, but was swallowed up in the thunderous swell of a gunshot. A force slammed against Jeremiah's shoulder, searing pain erupting at the contact. The blow sent Jeremiah spinning away from Ambrose and falling to the ground, where he curled into a ball and screamed. His gun and pain stick clattered to the floor beside him, forgotten.

Cain lowered his gun and holstered it as his guards surged forward, swarming Jeremiah and Kerrin. Cain knelt beside Ambrose as the advisor removed his switch from his pocket and turned it off, silencing the shrill whistle coming from Cain's coat.

"And you thought carrying the switch was overkill," Cain teased lightly, checking Ambrose over for any visible injuries.

"Far be it for me to contradict you," Ambrose wheezed, shivering slightly. "Took you long enough."

"In case you missed it, I had a brawl to stop," Cain replied. He helped Ambrose to sit up and leaned him against the wall. "Besides, I thought I told you to stay put."

"Long story." Ambrose's head rolled to one side, eyes seeking out Kerrin's still form being lifted off of the ground. "Kerrin didn't know. He thought he was protecting me. It was all the other one. Jeremiah, I think."

"I heard him demand the key," Cain said.

Ambrose nodded. "He didn't believe me when I told him I didn't have it."

"He was in too deep to risk being wrong about it," Cain stated. "We can question him more tomorrow after the medicos see him. In the meantime, let's get you back to your rooms. I think you've had enough excitement for one night."

Ambrose let Cain help him to his feet, wincing as he put his weight on his still twitching leg. "For once, Cain, I'm not even going to argue with you. A bed sounds wonderful at the moment."

Cain hooked one of Ambrose's arms over his shoulders to help him walk. "No arguments, huh? Does that mean you'll also agree with me that you  _ do _ need a guard after all?"

"Don't push it.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Cain leaned back in his chair and rubbed gritty eyes, heaving a weary sigh. A quick glance at his clock informed him that it was nearly time for breakfast.

After walking Ambrose back to his room and extracting a promise that he wouldn't change his mind and decide to wander the palace in the middle of the night, Cain had parted his company. Before leaving, he assigned two of Ambrose's guard detail to stay outside the advisor's door and the other two to stand beside the exit to his personal secret passage. Cain couldn't say if he was more worried about someone getting into Ambrose's rooms or about Ambrose getting out, but it gave him peace of mind to know that the advisor was protected either way.

His next stop had been to the ballroom, where the Queen and DG had done a remarkable job getting the celebration back on track.  He quietly informed Olivia about the attack, assuring her that Ambrose was all right but would be absent the rest of the night.

After a quick trip around the ballroom to check in with his guards, Cain had retreated to Kerrin’s rooms where the guard had been taken.  The young man was mortified, apologizing profusely and claiming innocence.  Cain believed him, and he assured Kerrin that Ambrose had told him of his innocence.  Kerrin had orders to recuperate for the rest of the night, and to present himself to Cain after breakfast for his next assignment.

Jeremiah was unconscious and being tended to by the medicos, so Cain’s trip to the hospital wing of the palace had been to check in with the young men responsible for the brawl.  The two who were still conscious were showing deep confusion, along with memory loss.  Cain suspected some sort of drug involved in their symptoms, adding to his suspicions that the brawl had been engineered in order to get to Ambrose.

By the time Cain had made it back to his office to begin writing up his report, it was already late.  As he put the pieces of the night’s events together, a red flag began waving in his mind.  He had cross referenced reports from the other incidents involving Ambrose, hoping to figure out just what it was that put him on edge.

Pushing back from his desk, he grabbed his jacket and stood.  Maybe it would come to him in a big cup of coffee.

A quick detour to his rooms for a shower and a change of clothes left Cain feeling refreshed as he walked into the dining hall and claimed his usual chair.  He noticed that Ambrose was absent, but it was still a little early for the inventor.  Grabbing a carafe from the table, he poured the contents into a cup and took a healthy swig.

“Late night?”

Cain glanced to his left and watched as Lady Emily Aviano sat beside him.  Across the table, Lord Eric sat and nodded at Cain.

“You could say that,” Cain replied, setting his cup down.

Lady Emily nodded and retrieved a scone from a platter at the center of the table, setting it on her plate.  “You and Ambrose were missed last night,” she continued.  “Many of us were hoping to have a dance with one of the heroes of the O.Z.”

Cain took another sip of coffee.  “I’m sure there were plenty of other partners to take our place,” he offered.

The door to the dining hall opened, and Ambrose stormed in.  He zeroed in on Cain immediately and stalked toward the Tin Man.

“There you are!” he exclaimed.

“Good morning, Ambrose,” Lady Emily greeted, her lips upturned in amusement.

Etiquette pulled Ambrose back from his impending explosion.  He bowed to Lady Emily, and to Lord Eric.  “Good morning.  I trust you slept well?”

“Better, I imagine, that Mr. Cain,” Lady Emily commented.  “The poor man must have worked late into the night if the rumors are true.”

Ambrose sat down beside Cain, the wind having been knocked out of his sails.  He took the carafe of coffee and topped off Cain’s cup before filling his own.  Lady Emily winked at Cain, who smiled back.

“What rumors have you heard?” Ambrose asked.

“Just that the fight last night might have been the result of a plot designed to lure the Queen’s advisor into a trap,” Lady Emily answered.  “To which, I hope you are all right.”

“News travels fast,” Cain muttered to Ambrose.

Ambrose snorted indelicately.  “Gossip always does,” he replied.

Lord Eric had yet to speak, but he was watching the conversation between his sister and Cain and Ambrose avidly.  Cain wanted to ask him what he found so fascinating, but became distracted when DG and Azkadellia joined them.

Breakfast turned into a jovial affair, full of jokes and laughter as old friends reconnected.  Cain enjoyed the lightened atmosphere, having missed moments like these before the witch.

Ambrose glanced at his pocketwatch.  “Oh!  I need to get going to my next appointment.  Which reminds me.  Cain, a word, please?”

Cain stood and followed Ambrose out into the hall.  Ambrose whirled on him as soon as the door closed, a finger jabbing Cain in the chest.

“Why do I still have a guard detail following me?” he demanded.  “Didn’t you arrest that man last night?”

Cain put his hands on his hips.  “We don’t know that he was acting on his own.”

“Who else would possibly mastermind something like this?” Ambrose challenged.  “No more guards, Cain.”

Cain sighed.  “Let them stay for now.  I’ll speak with the Queen.”

Ambrose straightened, tugging his jacket into place.  “I’ll hold you to that, Cain.  See you at lunch?”

“Sure, Glitch.”  Cain nodded at Ambrose’s guards as they stepped away from the wall and followed their charge.

Before Cain could move, the dining hall door opened again and Lord Eric stepped out.  He glanced at Cain and, without a word, began to walk down the hall.

“Lord Eric!” Cain called, jogging up to the noble as he stopped and turned.  “May I have a moment of your time?”

“How may I be of help, Mr. Cain?” Lord Eric asked.

Cain decided to bite the bullet.  “What’s your interest in Ambrose?”

Lord Eric blinked and reared back in shock.  “I beg your pardon?”

“You’ve been watching him,” Cain stated.  “Closely.  And with an ongoing threat to his safety, I tend to take that sort of thing seriously.”

Anger spread across Lord Eric’s face.  “I don’t care for your insinuations, Mr. Cain.  My business with Ambrose is exactly that.  My business.”

“The threat against Ambrose makes it my business too,” Cain replied.  He lowered his voice.  “He said you went to school together.  As his friend, don’t you want to help him?”

“We were acquaintances at best,” Lord Eric replied stiffly, and he turned as if to leave.

“Please,” Cain said, blocking his exit.  “If you know something . . .”

Lord Eric studied Cain’s face, then sighed.  “My father has a number of people in his employ all over the O.Z.,” he finally said.  “Since school, he has always spoken poorly of Ambrose because Ambrose has always turned down his offers.  Lately, however, he has been speaking more favorably.  I suppose I’ve been trying to find some evidence in Ambrose that he now works for my father.”

Cain nodded and stepped aside, thinking.  “Thank you, Lord Eric.”

Lord Eric nodded curtly and continued down the hall.  Cain turned towards his office and began walking, mulling over what he had just learned.

Walking towards him from the other end of the hall, Kerrin called out to him.  “Cain!”

Cain looked up, suddenly remembering his meeting with Kerrin.  “How are you feeling?”

“Ashamed,” Kerrin replied honestly.  “I can’t apologize enough for Jeremiah.  I let him play me and never once suspected anything.”

“He fooled us all,” Cain assured him, gesturing for Kerrin to walk with him back to his office.

“I should have known better,” Kerrin insisted.  “When we were boys in Somertown, he would always-.”

“Somertown?” Cain stopped abruptly, his mind snapping the puzzle pieces together.  “That belongs to Aviano, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Kerrin confirmed, his brows drawn in confusion.

_ People in his employ. _

_ Speaking more favorably. _

_ Appointment at ten. _

Cain seized Kerrin’s arm, dread rising in his chest.  “We need to get to Ambrose,” he said.  “ _ Now _ .”

He turned and ran down the hall to where he knew the Aviano suites were located.  Echoing footfalls behind him told Cain that Kerrin was keeping up.  He tried to convince himself that the silence coming from his P.B.E.W.A.S. in his pocket meant that he was overreacting, that Ambrose was safe, but his gut told him otherwise.

The door to the suite was closed.  Cain dimly noted the lack of guards and pushed the doors out of his way, skidding to a halt just inside the room.

Ambrose’s four guards were sprawled on the floor, unconscious.  Some distance away lay Ambrose’s coat.  As Kerrin knelt to check on his comrades, Cain knelt to pick up the coat, hands reaching into the pockets and pulling out Ambrose’s switch.

“They’re alive,” Kerrin reported.  He stood and moved to Cain’s side, eyes falling on the coat in Cain’s hands.  “Ambrose?”

“Gone.”  Cain stood.  “Get everyone not on duty and get them to the conference room.  We need medicos here, and we need to apprehend Lord Aviano immediately.  Wherever he’s stashed Ambrose, he can’t have gotten far.”

Kerrin nodded and ran from the room.  Cain folded Ambrose’s coat over his arm and turned back to his men, checking on them.

Sam, one of Cain’s newest guards, stirred and blinked up at him.  “Cain?”

“Easy, Sam,” Cain said, kneeling beside the young man.  “You’re going to be all right.”

Sam frowned.  “L-Lord Ambrose . . .”

“Don’t worry, Sam,” Cain said.  “We’ll get him back.  Just relax until the medicos get here.”

Sam fought against his grogginess.  “No,” he insisted.  “You don’t understand.”

“Don’t understand what?” Cain asked.

“It was a Tin Man,” Sam told him.  “By the time we realized it, it was too late.  He carried Lord Ambrose wrapped in a rug. I don’t remember much else.”

“You did good, kid,” Cain said, patting him on the shoulder.  “We can take it from here.”

Thundering footsteps heralded the arrival of medicos and more guards.  Cain gave everyone specific orders, then left to find the Queen.

*****

Ambrose frowned at the stiffness in his neck as he slowly rose from the depths of slumber.  He didn’t remember falling asleep in his lab, and certainly not while sitting up in his chair.

Lifting his head to ease the soreness, he squinted his eyes open and looked around.

Instead of his lab, Ambrose found himself in a smaller room with faded green walls and peeling plaster.  Crates, tables, chairs, and other odd assorted items covered in layers of dust surrounded him.

As he shifted in his chair, Ambrose felt rope binding his hands behind him.  A few light tugs told him that the knots were tight and away from his fingers.  He wouldn’t be getting out of them without some help.

The door to his right opened, and a familiar figure stepped into the room.  Ambrose’s eyes widened in shock, which rapidly gave way to anger.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

Lord Aviano approached, his gaze cool and calculating as he studied Ambrose.  He stopped just out of reach of Ambrose’s legs.

“The Queen of the O.Z. herself states that you have a key to her greatest treasure,” Lord Aviano stated.  “I would like to have that key.”

Ambrose’s head fell back in exasperation.  “I didn’t take you for a fool,” he said, lifting his head again.

Aviano’s face contorted in rage.  Moving forward quickly, he backhanded Ambrose with enough force that only his bound hands kept him on his chair.

“You’ll find I am a patient man, but my patience has worn thin,” Aviano snarled.  “I have been placing my loyal servants in key positions around the O.Z. for annuals, waiting for my chance to finally claim the crown that belongs to my house.  The treasure you guard will be the final element to my success, and I  _ will _ have it.”

Ambrose’s eyes narrowed.  “The Queen and her people would never stand for it.  The House of Gale is  the rightful ruler of the O.Z.”

“The House of Gale is responsible for the reign of terror we have been under for the last fifteen annuals,” Aviano pointed out.  “The people will not forgive them that.”

“You underestimate the people,” Ambrose said.  “They are overjoyed to have the House of Gale returned and whole.  No treasure can ever convince them otherwise.”

“I’ll have it all the same,” Aviano said.  “Give me the key.”

Ambrose huffed.  “I don’t  _ have _ any key.  No doubt you searched me already.”

“I did,” Aviano admitted.  “If it’s not on you, then where have you hidden it?”

“There  _ is _ no  _ key _ !” Ambrose exclaimed.  “There  _ is no treasure _ !  It’s just a rumor!”

Aviano sighed heavily.  “Very well.  If you are so adamant to keep it from me, perhaps Liam can convince you to change your mind.”  He turned to go.

“Changing my mind doesn’t change the fact that the treasure doesn’t exist!” Ambrose shouted at Aviano’s back.

Aviano opened the door and beckoned at someone on the other side.  Ambrose’s glare moved from the nobleman to the man who entered, his eyes lifting up to take in the newcomer’s broad stature and thick muscles.

“Liam,” Aviano said, closing the door.  “I’m afraid Lord Ambrose is being a little uncooperative about where he keeps the key.  Perhaps you can help jog his memory?”

Liam bowed to Aviano and stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.

Ambrose leaned as far back as his chair would allow.  “This will not change anything.  There’s no key!”

Aviano shrugged.  “We’ll see.”


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Anger was bubbling in Cain’s stomach as he stormed down the hall to the conference room.  So many things had gone wrong right under his nose, and Cain was left scrambling to collect what pieces of information he could to help Ambrose.

He shoved the conference room door out of his way, dimly noting that it bounced off of the wall with a crack.  To their credit, none of the men and women in the conference room jumped, everyone tense and awaiting further instructions.

Cain strode to the head of the table and looked around, meeting the eyes of every guard, Tin Man, and soldier present.  He nodded at the guards from the neighboring kingdoms who had arrived, as well as the palace staff who had volunteered to help with the search.  The room was full to bursting with people who wanted to find their advisor and bring him home.  The only people missing were the few that Cain had asked to stay and protect the royal family in case someone used their current situation as an opportunity to target them.  DG had been furious about being confined; as it was, only Raw and Azkadellia had been able to convince her to stay in the palace.

“Thank you all for coming so quickly,” Cain began, his voice deceptively calm.  “And thank you to those of you from Pharos, Saltz, and Elosia.  We are grateful for your help.”

“What do we know, Cain?” Matthew asked.

Cain took a deep breath, feeling his temper flare at what he was about to reveal.  “This morning, at around ten, Ambrose was abducted from the palace by a man dressed like a Tin Man.”

The Tin Men in the crowd gave a start, each looking at one another in outrage that someone had infiltrated their ranks.

“Lord Aviano is nowhere to be found,” Cain continued.  “His son and daughter claim not to know anything about their father’s actions.  I believe them.”

The guards in the room glanced at one another, but remained silent.

“I went to question the prisoner we took last night for more clues about where Aviano may have taken Ambrose,” Cain said.  His voice softened very slightly.  “He was dead in his cell sometime after breakfast.  His food had been poisoned.”

Kerrin had been informed right after Jeremiah’s body had been discovered, but the sickly pallor to his face had yet to fade.  He clenched his jaw, his eyes never leaving Cain’s.

“Based on information that the kitchen staff shared, it was Eliza’s turn to bring food to the prisoners,” Cain went on.  “Eliza states that she ran into a Tin Man who knocked over the water jug she was carrying, and he helped her to clean it up.  It’s possible that this man put something in Jeremiah’s food at this time.”

“What are you saying, Cain?” one of the Tin Men called out.  “You think one of us is responsible?”

“No,” Cain replied.  “I think Lord Aviano hired someone who disguised himself as a Tin Man to kidnap Ambrose and tie up any loose ends.  Dressing as a guard would have been too obvious, as I would have noticed any new faces right away.  Disguising himself as a Tin Man would have given him access to the palace with very few questions asked, and because we’re still hiring and building the police force, a new face was plausible.”

The Tin Men seemed to settle a bit at the explanation.  One of Ambrose’s night guards, George, raised his hand.

“Where do we start looking?” he asked.

“I sent runners to the gates of the city,” Cain said.  “No one fitting Eliza’s description of the Tin Man or Lord Avian’s description has been seen, so we think they’re in the city somewhere.  We need to split into teams with copies of their pictures and canvas all the neighborhoods.  Hopefully, someone will know something.”

It was a long shot, and everyone in the room knew it, but no one wanted to bring to light the doubt that hovered over them like a dark cloud.

Cain nodded at the grim determination that settled over his men and began calling out the teams.

*****

“Enough.”

Liam paused, his fist drawn back.  At a wave from Aviano, he stepped back and grabbed a dusty cloth from a nearby crate, wiping the blood from his hands.

Aviano crouched in front of Ambrose until he was at eye level with the barely conscious advisor.  “The key, if you please?”

Ambrose was breathing heavily, his right eye swollen shut.  Blood streamed out of his broken nose and into his mouth, staining his teeth.  His left eye was hooded, tracking Aviano’s movements warily.

“The key,” Aviano said again.

Ambrose turned his head and spat a gob of blood on the ground.  Turning back to Aviano, he wheezed, “My . . . lab.  Blue . . . box, button on the bottom.”

Aviano smiled.  “There, now, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?”  He straightened.  “Of course, if you’re lying to me, I’ll make sure your death is slow and painful.”

Ambrose simply glared at him wordlessly.

Aviano turned to Liam.  “Go back to the palace and bring me that box.  I’ll wait here in the tavern for you.”

Liam threw the bloodied cloth aside and left without a word.

Aviano turned back to Ambrose.  “Rest while you can.  Once I have the key, you’ll be leading me to where the treasure is kept.”

Not expecting an answer and not waiting for one, Aviano tuned and left Ambrose alone in the room.

Ambrose immediately straightened in his chair and began pulling on his bonds.  He wasn’t sure how far away from the palace he had been taken, but he didn’t want to be around when Liam  returned with the spare key to the storage closet in his lab.

Unbeknownst to his captors, Ambrose had been repositioning his hands and stretching different rope strands.  With each blow that Liam had delivered, Ambrose used the force of it to weaken the ropes around his hands, loosening them.

Twisting his right hand, Ambrose finally managed to coax one loop over his hand.  Once the first loop gave way, the rest soon followed.  Nearly ten minutes passed before Ambrose finally slipped free, wincing at the strain in his shoulders as he brought his arms forward to rub his raw wrists.

Standing on shaky legs, Ambrose lurched to the door and tested the knob.  Finding it unlocked, he carefully opened it and peered outside.

A hallway stretched before him, leading to a set of stairs that went up.  There was another door to the right, slightly ajar.  Ambrose waited for a sign of life, but hearing nothing, he moved into the hall.  Shutting the door behind him, he crept down the hall and went up the stairs.

The stairs opened into a kitchen that had four people working in it.  Ambrose slipped around an open pantry door, looking for his next destination.

Someone came bursting into the room from the other side of the stove, already in the middle of a rant.  The rest of the room’s occupants ignored him, but Ambrose listened closely.

“. . . his honor is  _ not _ my lord, no matter how much he flaunts his house and ring at me!”  The man, near his sixties with a shock of white hair stormed to a counter near Ambrose and rummaged beneath it.  He pulled out a plate made of bone china and slammed it none-too-gently on the counter.  “Insulting my establishment, even after appropriating my basement.  Not good enough for his lordship, but good enough for his business.”  He turned and barked at the cook.  “Gabe!  Bring me a leg!”

The chef at the stove turned, carrying a pan he had just removed from the oven laden with piping hot legs of lamb.  The ranting man, who Ambrose took to be the owner of the tavern he had been brought to, took one of the legs and set it on the china plate.

“If I weren’t a businessman, I’d spit on his food,” the owner grumbled.  He turned to a younger man who had appeared at his side carrying a platter of vegetables.  Scooping some of the vegetables onto the china plate, the owner lifted the plate, took a deep breath, and carried it back through the door.

Ambrose eyed the door, then searched the rest of the room.  His gaze fell on a young boy no more than ten struggling with a bag of garbage toward another hall behind the refrigerator.  His heart began to race, sensing his exit was in that direction.

It took five agonizing minutes for the boy to return, but Ambrose was ready.  With a watchful eye on the workers, he darted from the pantry door to a counter, using whatever he could find as cover.  One of his hiding spots brought him beside a pile of dish towels.  Ambrose helped himself to a couple, then darted for the hall he had seen the boy take.

The hall was barely an alcove, but it held a door that opened easily.  Ambrose slipped into an alley beside a dumpster, then edged toward the street to get his bearings.

There were people everywhere Ambrose looked, naturally drawn to town due to the Queen’s celebration.  Ambrose felt relief that he was at least still in Central City.  Glancing left and right, he recognized one of the shelters he had delivered clothing to weeks ago.  Checking for signs of Aviano and Liam, Ambrose ran across the road and ducked inside the shelter.

The man sitting at the counter looked up, startled, at Ambrose’s sudden appearance.  He stood and moved closer to Ambrose, concern in his eyes.  “Are you all right, sir?  Can I help you?”

Ambrose smiled, wincing slightly as the smile tugged at his split lip.  “I hope so, Xavier.”

Xavier gave a start.  “Ambrose?  What-- Are you all right?  What happened to you?  I’ll send for a healer right away!”

“No!” Ambrose exclaimed.  “Please, I need to get out of sight.  Can we talk in private?  No one can know I’m here.”

“Of course,” Xavier said.  “Go in the back to my office.  You know the way.  I’ll get Jeffrey to watch the front and bring you some bandages and a change of clothes.”

“Thank you,” Ambrose replied gratefully.  He felt himself start to tremble, the adrenaline of his escape beginning to fade.  

“Go on,” Xavier encouraged.  “You can tell me all about it.  From the looks of you, it’s quite the story.”

Ambrose snorted in laughter.  “You could say that,” he agreed.  “I’m afraid I’ll need to impose on you for your help.”

“No imposition at all,” Xavier assured him, gently guiding him away from the door.  “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

It nearly took the five minutes for Ambrose to sneak back to the office without being seen, but once safely behind closed doors, he sank into a chair with a sigh of relief.  Using one of the dish towels he had carried from the tavern, Ambrose began lightly dabbing his face, noting that very little fresh blood came away.

Xavier arrived with his arms full, shutting the door and locking it.  He set the bundles of clothes on his desk and sat beside Ambrose, taking the towel from him.  “Allow me.”

“Thank you,” Ambrose replied.

As Xavier carefully cleaned the rest of the blood from Ambrose’s face, Ambrose filled him in on his capture, leaving out any mention of treasure.  Xavier listened attentively while he worked, waiting patiently for Ambrose to finish.

“I need to get back to the palace,” Ambrose told him.  “But I don’t know who to trust.  I know Aviano already infiltrated the palace; I have no idea who else works for him.”

“Do you know who you  _ can _ trust?” Xavier asked.

Ambrose nodded.  “My friend, Wyatt.  You met him on our last delivery.”

Xavier smiled.  “That one’s a force to be reckoned with, I’ll bet.”  He thought for a moment.  “We could use the old Resistance Trail.  Not being from Central City, I doubt this Aviano would know about it.”

Ambrose considered the idea.  The Resistance Trail was a series of safe havens located strategically throughout the city, used to smuggle people to safety.  Most of the havens had never been discovered, despite the Longcoat’s efforts at exposing them.

“Wyatt might not know about the Trail either,” Ambrose said.

Xavier waved a hand.  “You leave it to me.  I’ll let my contact know to reactivate the Trail.  We can have you to the next haven within the hour.”

Another safety feature of the Trail.  None of the people running the havens knew each other beyond the points immediately before and after their own.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Ambrose said.

“After all you’ve done for us, this is the very least we can do for you,” Xavier said.  “Go on and change, and leave those clothes here.  I’ll take care of them later.”

Xavier left to make his contact, giving Ambrose privacy to change.  Ambrose made a note to himself to make sure Xavier’s shelter received special assistance from the palace to repay his kindness.  He would see to it himself.

Once he got out of his current predicament.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Cain’s eyes slipped from one face to the next, relentless in their examination as he searched for Aviano and his hired gun.  He led his team, consisting of Kerrin and a Tin Man from before the witch’s reign named Thomas, through the streets and towards Agnes’ inn.

“Do you think Ambrose was taken here?” Thomas asked, doubt in his tone.  “I know this neighborhood, and they’re not all that fond of strangers.”

That surprised Cain, but he supposed accompanying Ambrose had made his presence acceptable to the people he’d met.  “No, I don’t think anyone here would help Aviano hide Ambrose, but I wanted to let some people know he was missing.  I know they’ll help him.”

Agnes was at her counter when Cain led his team in.  She smiled upon seeing  Cain, though it faltered as her eyes noted his companions and the absence of Ambrose.

“Wyatt, it’s good to see you again,” she greeted, coming from around her counter.

“It’s good to see you too, Agnes,” Cain replied, a small smile escaping his determined mood.  “I’m afraid I need your help.”

“Of course,” Agnes replied.  “Shall I get Michael?”

“That would probably be best,” Cain agreed.

As Agnes turned and walked down the hall, Kerrin turned to Cain.

“You know these people?” he asked.

“You could say that,” Cain replied.

Agnes returned with Michael on her heels.  The small group moved to the front parlor and sat down.

“I don’t have good news,” Cain admitted,  getting right to the point.  “Ambrose has been kidnapped.”

Agnes’ hand flew to her mouth.  “Oh, no,” she breathed.  “Was he taken because of his position as the Queen’s advisor?”

Cain’s jaw fell open in shock.  “He . . . you  _ knew _ ?”

“Of course we knew,” Michael spoke up wryly.  “Everyone does.  But Ambrose seems to want to keep it a secret, so we  respect that.”

“There isn’t much that gets by us anymore,” Agnes added.

“We hope that’s true,” Cain said.  “A nobleman, Lord Aviano, and a man working for him took Ambrose from the palace this morning.  We’re asking around if anyone has seen them.” Kerrin leaned forward in his chain, passing the pictures of the two men to Michael.

Michael studied both images and passed them to Agnes, who frowned and shook her head.  “They haven’t been around this neighborhood.”

“Can we keep these?” Michael asked.  “We can show them around and  tell everyone who to be on the lookout for.”

“We’d appreciate that,” Cain replied.  “Any ideas on where to start looking?”

Agnes and Michael glanced at one another, considering their responses.

“I don’t know about the man,” Michael said slowly.  “But a nobleman in town would be something to talk about.  I’d try the taverns and see the topic at the bar.  Richard runs the Emerald Eyes, and Raine runs Poppy Fields.  Both of those are good places to start.”

Cain nodded.  “Thanks for your help.  We’ll swing back this way once we’ve checked there to  see if you’ve heard anything.”

He rose to his feet, bringing everyone else up with him.  Bidding Agnes and Michael farewell, Cain led Kerrin and Thomas back out onto the crowded street.

“You’re certain we can trust them?” Thomas asked Cain.

“I am,” Cain said.  “Which way?”

“Poppy Fields is closest, just a few streets east of here,” Thomas stated.  “Emerald Eyes is south, near the edge of the city.  It’ll take us the rest of the afternoon to cover both places.”

“Then we better get moving,” Cain said, beginning the walk towards Poppy Fields, not bothering to check that the rest of his team was following.

*****

Liam strode up the street, the palace looming ahead of him in the distance.  Around him, merchants called out their wares to the thickening crowd, creating obstacles in his path as people crossed in front of him, jostled him, or stopped right in front of him.

As he drew closer to the palace, Liam caught sight of a splash of green.  People clad in palace guard uniforms dotted the crowd, stopping people and showing them something that Liam couldn’t quite make out.  Mixed in with them were Tin Men and guards wearing the uniforms marking them as belonging to neighboring kingdoms.

An uneasy feeling began churning in Liam’s stomach, and he slowed down.  Weaving around a merchant stall and moving into an alcove, Liam positioned himself close to the nearest guard and strained to see what was in his hands.

His image, sketched in an expert hand, glowered out from a piece of paper.  Beside it was a picture of Lord Aviano.  The guard lifted a second photo of Ambrose, undoubtedly asking the woman in front of him about their whereabouts.

Cursing silently, Liam slipped around the alcove and hurried down an alley, away from the guards.  There was no way he would make it back to the palace without being apprehended.  Lord Aviano would have to get the key some other way.

It took him twice as long to return to the tavern, but Liam was able to avoid notice by the palace guard.  He entered the tavern, eyes scanning the faces inside and falling on Aviano at a table in the back.  He headed straight for the nobleman.

Aviano frowned at Liam.  “You couldn’t possibly have gotten to the key this fast.”

“I never got out of the city,” Liam replied.  “The palace guard is looking for us.  They have our pictures.  We need to move to a more secure location.”

Aviano’s face darkened, and he stood.  “We need to bring the advisor with us.  We’ve come too far now to let him go.”

Liam silently followed Aviano back through the kitchen and downstairs.  He was mentally reviewing possible safehouses they could move to, and was so preoccupied that he nearly walked right into Aviano.

Aviano had frozen in the doorway to the tavern’s storage room, his body vibrating with barely suppressed rage.  Liam looked beyond the nobleman, his eyebrows lifting in shock upon seeing the empty room.

Aviano whirled around, his face purple.  “ _ Find him now _ !”

*****

Ambrose tugged his hood down farther over his head, casting his face into shadows.  His eyes darted left and right, searching the faces nearest him for his pursuers.  Beside him, Xavier strolled easily as though he smuggled fugitives every day.

The two walked through the crowds, Ambrose relying on Xavier to steer him to the next haven.  He’d been aware of them before his brain had been removed, and had even sent a few of the palace staff in their direction when it appeared Azkadellia no longer valued their service.  He had some vague snatches of memories, mostly impressions and while newly headcased, of being sent along the Trail himself, but Ambrose couldn’t say the memories hadn’t been just dreams.

“We’re here,” Xavier said softly.

Ambrose blinked, coming back to the present.  Xavier led him into a bakery, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting around him.  Ambrose took a deep breath and looked up.

“Good afternoon, Xavier,” a heavyset man greeted.  He stood behind a display counter, clad in an apron and surrounded by breads and pastries.  “Here for your order?”

“You know I can never resist pumpernickel with my grog,” Xavier replied.

The man behind the counter nodded and gestured to a door in the back.  “I’ve got it ready through here.”

“I’ll send Kyle to collect while I explore your latest masterpieces,” Xavier said.

Hearing his cue, Ambrose walked across the room and through the door, the man right behind him.  Once the door swung shut, the man took the lead, passing the kitchen and into a small office where a young man with brown hair waited.

“I didn’t think we’d need to reactivate the Trail again, much less so soon,” the man stated, locking his office door.  He held a hand out to Ambrose.  “Name’s Griff.  This is my son, Kyle.”

Ambrose shed his borrowed cloak and shook Griff’s hand.  “I can’t thank you enough for your help.  Both of you.”  He shook Kyle’s hand.  “I’m sorry to be putting you in this situation.”

“Don’t be,” Kyle said, taking Ambrose’s cloak and putting it on.  “This is a lot more fun now that we don’t have to worry about Longcoats anymore.”

“But still dangerous,” Griff reminded him sternly.  “Listen to Xavier, and don’t take chances.”

“Who, me?” Kyle grinned and drew his hood up.  “See you at dinner.  Nice to meet you, sir.”

Griff turned to Ambrose.  “Wait here.  I’ll be back once I get Kyle back to Xavier.”

Ambrose nodded.

Griff returned around ten minutes later, carrying a bundle of clothes.  “Put these on.  You’re going to go with my wife Mary to make a delivery.  With any luck, we can have you to a safer location.”

Gratitude filled Ambrose as he donned the apron, smock, and hat Griff had given him.  Once dressed, he followed Griff to his cart where his wife waited.

From the bakery, Ambrose went to a tavern, then to another shelter, and then to an older couple’s home.  As the day wore on, Ambrose met several selfless and loyal men and women, none of whom asked the reason Ambrose needed their help but who gave it easily just because it was asked for.  Ambrose vowed to do everything in his power to help the city rebuild, if for no other reason than to allow such kindness to flourish.

His current hosts, Garen and Lila, were fixing a meal for themselves and Ambrose.  Ambrose, upon hearing that their heating system wasn’t working, had rolled up his sleeves and was working on it.  Deep in the workings of the machinery, he didn’t hear the knock at the door.

Garen and Lila exchanged looks.  Lila turned and moved to warn Ambrose as Garen headed for the door.

“Ambrose,” Lila whispered.  “Someone’s at the door.  You need to hide.  Come with me and stay quiet.”

Ambrose abandoned his tools and obeyed, following Lila into the kitchen.  Lila opened the pantry and moved aside one of the shelves, revealing a latch.  Pulling on it, the entire wall swung open, leaving a hiding space large enough for three grown men.  Ambrose slipped inside.

It felt like an eternity spent in darkness before the door opened again, this time Garen being the one to open it.  Ambrose stepped out and looked to see Lila finishing dinner.  “Is everything all right?”

“It was two Tin Men and a palace guard,” Garen replied.  “They showed us a picture of two men, said they kidnapped the Queen’s head advisor.  Then they showed us your picture.”

Ambrose colored in embarrassment.  “What did you tell them?”

“That we’ve been home all day,” Garen replied.  “Regardless of your reasons, once you’re on the Trail, we’re honor bound to conceal you on it.”

Ambrose nodded, looking down at his feet.  “Thank you,” he said quietly.  “The pictures they showed you . . . a nobleman of the Queen’s court hired people to abduct me.  People I thought I could trust.”

Lila scoffed, setting bowls of piping hot stew on the table.  “One would think that fifteen annuals under the witch’s thumb would be enough for even a noble to save his political machinations for awhile.  Now, both of you sit down.  I’ll not have you traipsing off to the next haven on empty stomachs.”

Ambrose let out a laugh and obeyed.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Cain knelt on the ground inside the basement storage room of the Emerald Eyes.  Before him was an ordinary wooden chair, with rope coils underneath it.  Blood drops stained the chair, the ropes, and the floor.

Behind him, the owner of the tavern was stammering out his surprise under Kerrin’s hard gaze and Thomas’ unmoved expression.  As near as they could make out, Aviano had blown into the tavern, commandeered his rooms, and made ridiculous demands for food and wine.

“He’s not involved,” Cain said suddenly, cutting through the babbling.  He stood and turned to the owner.  “When did they leave?”

The owner shrugged helplessly.  “His guard came in and said something to him, and they both took off out the back twenty minutes later.  They looked mad.”

“Ambrose escaped,” Cain stated.  He allowed himself a wry smile directed at Kerrin.

Kerrin smiled back.  “He’s had plenty of practice.”

“When was this?” Thomas demanded.

“I don’t know,” the owner said.  “M-Maybe a couple hours ago?”

The three men left the owner in the room and climbed the stairs, taking the back exit and moving into the alley.

“Ambrose has a good head start,” Kerrin commented.  “The thing I don’t get it, why didn’t he find the nearest guard?  We’re not exactly hard to spot.”

“A palace worker conspired to kidnap him,” Cain pointed out, moving to the edge of the alley and scanning the buildings.  “A man dressed as a Tin Man actually managed it.  Lord Aviano has plenty of money and influence.  No, Ambrose would want to find people he knew he could trust.”  Cain’s eyes fell on the familiar building across the street.  “I think I know where he went.  Come on.”

Taking the lead again, Cain crossed the street and ducked into the shelter he’d visited with Ambrose in what seemed like an eternity ago.

Xavier was at the counter, and he did a double take when he saw his visitor.  “Wyatt!” he exclaimed.

“Hello, Xavier,” Cain said.  “I’m afraid I’m here on official business.  Have you been in contact with Ambrose?”

Xavier’s eyes flickered to the men behind Cain.  Cain caught the look.  “It’s okay,” he assured Xavier.  “They’re here to help.”

Xavier frowned, clearly wrestling with a decision.  After a moment, he finally nodded.  “Ambrose was here a few hours ago.  He’d been beaten, but he was all right.”

Cain fought down a wave of anger at the confirmation that Ambrose had been hurt.  “Where is he?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that,” Xavier replied.

“People are after him,” Cain insisted.  “People who want to hurt him.  We can protect him.”

“You misunderstand,” Xavier said.  “Ambrose told me that you were the only person he wanted to contact, the one he could trust.  He’s on his way to you, but I don’t know where he is now.  No one does.  But I promise you, he’s safe.”

Thomas spoke up from behind Cain, realization in his tone.  “You reactivated the Trail?”

All eyes turned to Thomas.  Thomas looked at Cain.

“The Resistance Trail was used to smuggle people out of the city during the Witch’s reign,” he explained.  “It’s a series of safe havens placed all over the city.  No one know anything more than the next point.”

“How do  _ you _ know about it?” Kerrin asked.

“I used to transport people between two havens before the Longcoats found out and destroyed them,” Thomas replied.  “They never got the next points out of them.  If Lord Ambrose is on the Trail, you won’t find him until he leaves it.”

“Neither will the men hunting him,” Xavier stated.

“So where do I go to meet him?” Cain asked.

“Is there a place in the city where Ambrose would try to make contact with you?” Xavier asked.

“Agnes’ inn,” Cain replied readily.

“I’ll send word along the Trail if I can,” Xavier promised.  “You should go there now in case he gets there.”

“All right.” Cain held out a hand to shake Xavier’s.  “Thank you for your help, and for looking out for him.”

“My pleasure, Wyatt,” Xavier replied.  “Please come back and visit once things settle down.”

“Just try and stop me,” Cain replied with a smile.  He gestured for Kerrin and Thomas to follow him back onto the street.

As soon as they had turned in the direction of Agnes’ inn, Kerrin quickened his stride to match Cain’s.  “How is it that people know Ambrose here in the city?”

Figuring Ambrose’s secret was well and truly out now, Cain answered Kerrin’s question.  “As it turns out, Ambrose comes down here frequently to help rebuild the city.  I’ve been with him as he fixes machines, donates clothes, and builds new homes.”

“And he doesn’t tell anyone who he really is?” Kerrin asked.

Cain tilted his head.  “What makes you think that he isn’t really that person?”

Kerrin fell silent as they walked, thinking over Cain’s words.  After a long contemplative silence, Kerrin cleared his throat.  “Cain?  After this is all over, I’d like to be assigned as Ambrose’s guard again.”

Cain raised his eyebrows, glancing at Kerrin.  “A change of mind?”

“More like a change of heart,” Kerrin admitted.  “I know no one holds me responsible for my cousin’s actions, but I do.  And besides . . .”

“Yes?” Cain prompted.

“You saw through Ambrose’s attempts at driving you away,” Kerrin stated.  “When you did that, he stopped trying so hard to get away, and I’d like the opportunity to help him the way you do.”

Cain heard the sincerity in Kerrin’s voice.  “Tell you what,” he said.  “Once we get Ambrose back and everything settles back to normal, we’ll let Ambrose know.  I’ll stay on to help the transition for a few days, too.”

Kerrin nodded.  “Thank you, Cain.  I swear, I’ll do a better job this time.”

“I know you will,” Cain assured him.  He patted Kerrin on the shoulder, giving a nod to another guard team passing by.  As they fell back into silence, Cain marveled at how Ambrose was able to remain hidden with so many people out looking for him.

*****

Ambrose was lying in the back of a cart filled with straw and crates of apples.  Several old blankets and handfuls of straw had been thrown on top of him as he was carried along the farthest stretch yet between havens.  He wasn’t sure how far he would be able to go on the Trail before the suns set, and he needed to figure out how to reach Cain.

The cart stopped again, but this time Ambrose heard a young voice speaking to Bal, his current host.  The advisor strained to hear their words, but couldn’t make sense of them.  The cart jolted again, continuing down the street.

The trip was taking longer than Ambrose expected.  A horrible thought struck him, and he began to wonder if Aviano had managed to infiltrate the Trail after all.  By the time the cart rolled to a stop, Ambrose had worked out several terrible scenarios in his mind, most of them resulting in his death.

The blankets were whipped aside.  Lost in his mounting fear, Ambrose flinched back.

“Hey, easy,” Bal soothed, lifting his hands placatingly.  “You’re safe.  It’s just me.”

“Of course,” Ambrose replied, calming his rapid breaths.  “Forgive me.”

Bal smiled.  “I just received word that I am to take you to Agnes’ inn.  A man named Wyatt is waiting for you there.”

Ambrose perked up.  “He is?  You’re sure?”

Bal nodded.  “Seems he found a way to send a message after you.  Do you know where this inn is located?”

Ambrose stepped down from the cart and peeked outside at his surroundings.  “It’s just off the main road from the palace, a few blocks north of the center of town.”

“We’re not far from there,” Bal observed.  “Wait here while I find a cloak.  We can walk from here.”

Ambrose sat down wearily in the back of the cart, feeling shaky at the promise of Cain’s protection.  He closed his eyes and took several deep, steadying breaths.

Bal returned quickly, and Ambrose donned the borrowed cloak with a practiced ease.  As soon as his hood was drawn down low over his face, the two stepped out onto the street and headed north.

Ambrose felt relief coursing through his veins as more and more familiar landmarks appeared.  The crowds were thinning as the hour grew late, the suns low in the sky.  Palace guards and Tin Men still dotted the streets, but not as many as there had been earlier.

Ambrose glanced to his left and nearly stumbled as his eyes met those of Liam.  Aviano’s guard was also disguised in a cloak, but his face was still visible.  For one panicked moment, Ambrose was convinced he’d been spotted, but Liam’s eyes moved past him and the man turned away.

“Bal,” Ambrose hissed, grabbing Bal’s arm.

Bal tensed, but kept his expression placid.  “What is it?”

“One of the men who kidnapped me is on the left, in front of the bookshop,” Ambrose told him.

“Did he spot you?” Bal asked.

“No,” Ambrose replied.  “I don’t believe so.”

Bal pretended to glance at Ambrose and speak, using the move to spot Liam.  He turned forward once more.  “He doesn’t seem to recognize you, but he’s following us.”

Fear coiled in Ambrose’s gut.  He was so close to safety; if Liam was here, where was Aviano?

The center of the city was where the two largest roads intersected.  In the very center of the intersection was an ornate marble fountain, shallow enough for children to splash in.  The few vehicles in Central City followed a large circle around the fountain, leaving the fountain accessible for those on foot.  Bal and Ambrose dodged several children as they played, trying to increase their pace.

One child, not paying attention, ran right into Ambrose, sending the advisor sprawling in a tangle of limbs.  To his horror, his hood fell back ,revealing his identity to everyone in the vicinity.

Including Liam.

Bal grabbed Ambrose and helped him up, both men brushing off the child’s apologies, but the damage had been done.  Liam had spotted Ambrose instantly and was hurrying across the intersection, intent on his target.  Bal glanced back and started to tug Ambrose into a run away from Liam.

“Where’s a guard when you need one?” Bal asked, unable to spot a single uniform in the fading twilight.

The two ran across the intersection and turned down the first alley they found.  Bal led the way around the building, choosing the next alley in seemingly random order.  Completely turned around and with no choice, Ambrose stayed right behind him.

Bal suddenly skidded to a halt beside a dumpster, drawing Ambrose against the wall next to it and listening for Liam’s pursuit.  Hearing nothing, Bal peered around the corner and at the street.

“Is he gone?” Ambrose whispered.

“I don’t know,” Bal admitted.  He glanced back at Ambrose.  “Are you all right?”

:”Yes, thank you,” Ambrose replied.  He leaned around Bal to try and get a look at their surroundings.  “Where are we?”

Before Bal could reply, Ambrose caught sight of a familiar gray fedora perched on the head of a man walking on the other side of the street.  His relief and excitement overwhelming his caution, Ambrose moved onto the street.  “Cain!”

“Ambrose, no!” Bal called.

Something hard struck Ambrose in the head.  Ambrose staggered, stars exploding in his eyes.  Hands pulled at him, an arm wrapping around him and pinning his arms to his sides.  Ambrose sagged in the restraining hold, darkness tinging his vision.

Ambrose’s call had sent Cain and Kerrin whirling around in surprise, Thomas a few seconds after.  Their guns were up and aimed as Liam quickly and effortlessly incapacitated Ambrose, using the advisor as a shield from their weapons.

“Let him go,” Cain ordered.  “Make it easier on yourself.  We’ve got the city locked down.  You won’t get anywhere with him.”

Liam pulled out a knife and held it under Ambrose’s sagging chin.  “You’ll let me pass, or I’ll kill him.”

“I don’t think your boss will appreciate you taking away his only access to the treasure,” Cain retorted.

Liam snorted.  “No one goes through what I put them through without telling me what I want to know.  There’s no treasure.”

Anger sparked in Cain, and he fought it down.  “Then why are you still helping Aviano?”

“The pay’s good,” Liam shot back.  “Now, put your weapons down and let me pass.”

As Cain continued to negotiate for Ambrose’s release, Bal crept up behind Liam wielding a board he had scavenged from the dumpster in the alley.  Gripping it in both hands, he swung the board as hard as he could at the back of Liam’s head.

Liam dropped to the ground like a stone, slumping half on top of Ambrose.  Once Bal was certain that Liam was no longer a threat, he dropped the board and rolled Liam off of Ambrose.

Kerrin and Thomas moved to restrain Liam as Cain dropped to his knees on the other side of Ambrose.  Cain and Bal studied one another for a tense moment, then turned their attention to the injured advisor.

Ambrose was barely conscious, his eyes at half-mast.  He frowned up at Cain.  “Cain?”

“Yeah, Glitch, it’s me,” Cain said.  “You’re safe now.”

“Good,” Ambrose said.  He rolled his head to Bal.  “Bal?”

“Yes?” Bal said.

“Thank you.”  The grateful words sapped what little energy Ambrose had left, and his eyes slid shut as he finally succumbed to unconsciousness.

“I’ll second that,” Cain said.  “Do you need any assistance?”

“No, I’m fine,” Bal assured him.  “I take it you’re Wyatt?”

“I am,” Cain confirmed.

“We were just coming to meet with you,” Bal said.  “I hope Ambrose will be all right.  Please let him know that I wish him a speedy recovery?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he comes and visits you himself, but I’ll tell him,” Cain replied.

Bal helped Cain lift Ambrose to his feet while Kerrin and Thomas did the same for Liam.  Thomas looked over at Cain.  “I’ll take this one to headquarters for questioning, since it’s closer than the palace.  I’ll catch up with you later on tonight?”

“Sounds good,” Cain said.  “Do you need help?”

“I can help,” Bal spoke up quickly.  “I have to get back home to my wife anyway.”

At Thomas’ acquiescence, Kerrin and Bal carefully traded places.  As Bal and Thomas carried Liam away, Kerrin readjusted his grip on Ambrose and turned to Cain.  “Where to?”

“Agnes,” Cain decided.  “We can send for a car from there.  Let everyone know that Aviano is still out there.  I’ll head back up to the palace with Ambrose.”

Kerrin nodded, and the two carried the advisor carefully down the street.


	13. Chapter 13

Epilogue

Cain stood in the doorway to Ambrose’s room, smiling softly as he watched DG, Raw, and Azkadellia pull Ambrose’s adventure on the Resistance Trail out of him yet again.  Ambrose was lying on a couch in his sitting room, refusing to admit he needed to lie in bed but not strong enough to sit up.  The blow to his head was severe enough to give him the occasional dizzy spell, but the medicos had assured everyone that they would fade in time.

The soft rustle of a gown beside him informed Cain that he was no longer alone.

“You have my eternal gratitude for bringing him home safely,” Olivia said quietly.

“Ambrose is my friend,” Cain replied.  “I could do no less.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, watching their friends interact with the princesses.

“I am told Lord Aviano has been apprehended,” Olivia commented.

Cain nodded, having heard the report from Kerrin.  The disgraced noble had been caught trying to flee the city in a stolen car.  Fortunately, the blockades had been able to stop him at the gates.  Aviano was currently under heavy guard in the dungeons.

Olivia’s next words surprised Cain.  “If I had known that a comment to my husband would result in this, I would have kept it to myself.”

Cain recalled the look Olivia had given Ahamo after Ambrose’s first kidnap attempt.  He turned to Olivia.  “You started the rumor, your majesty?”

Olivia gestured for Cain to join her in the hall.  “Mr. Cain, when you hear the word ‘treasure’, what comes to mind?”

“I suppose gold, maybe precious jewels,” Cain replied.

Olivia nodded.  “Most do,” she agreed.  “Tell me, Mr. Cain: if I were to lose all of the treasure in our vault, would that cause me to lose my title?”

“No, I suppose not,” Cain answered, wondering where Olivia was going with the conversation.

“Being a leader, no matter the title, means being responsible for the well-being of your people,” Olivia said.  “The people trust me, and my family, to lead them because they know that every decision I make is the best decision for their safety and future.”

“I see,” Cain said, not entirely certain he did.

Olivia smiled.  “As a queen, my greatest treasure is the love and fealty of my people.  Without them, I could no longer be queen.”

Cain nodded, unsure what all of this had to do with Ambrose.

Olivia read the unasked question in his eyes.  “I am aware, Mr. Cain, that my Ambrose likes to go into the city to help some of those same people.  Before the witch, he would do a variety of odd jobs and work.  Now, I imagine he’s stretching himself thin to help them rebuild.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cain said, still confused.

“From what Ambrose tells me, once he escaped from Aviano, he ran into one of those people and asked for help,” Olivia continued.  “Your own account states that the first people you asked volunteered to help.  Did any of them ask for repayment?”

Cain shook his head.

“Even knowing it was in our power to give them whatever they wanted?” Olivia pressed.

“Even then,” Cain agreed.

“Do you see, Mr. Cain?” Olivia asked.  “They didn’t hesitate to help Ambrose.  Ambrose, through his selfless work and kindness to strangers, has managed to earn their love and friendship.  Their loyalty.  And Ambrose, dear man that he is, would never think to abuse that friendship for any reason, which only strengthens their bonds.”

It made sense, but Cain was still confused about one thing.  “Your majesty, forgive me, but where does the key come in?  If the people are the treasure, how can there be a key?”

Olivia’s smile was fond.  “My comment to my husband may have been a bit careless, but I never said Ambrose  _ held _ the key to the greatest treasure in the O.Z.”  She patted Cain’s arm, seeing a dawning realization on his face.  “I said that Ambrose  _ is _ the key to the greatest treasure in the O.Z.  A queen, or a king, could learn a thing or two about being a leader from my Ambrose, don’t you think?”

With a gentle squeeze to Cain’s arm, she released him and turned, heading back into Ambrose’s room.

END


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